Those Who Fight
by Nicor Warg-Fyrweorm
Summary: (AU) When Sam Witwicky turns sixteen, his father buys him a secondhand deep blue Camaro. He knows he'll have to repaint it and wax it, and possibly take it to a mechanic. What he doesn't know is what to do when the Devil starts stalking him and Demon cops walk in broad daylight. (No OCs)
1. Sweet Sixteen

On Samuel James Witwicky's sixteenth birthday, his father promises to buy him a car if he can fulfill two conditions.

To save 2.000 $ and to get three A grades.

The first is easy, since he's been saving money since he turned fourteen.

The second…

"Yes!" Sam shouts, hastily putting his things in the back of the car and climbing in.

"Done?" His father asks, slowly pulling himself out of the half-asleep state he's slipped in while waiting for the teenager.

"A minus, it's an A." He answers, unable to get the smile off his face, and the man snaps at attention.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait." His father stops him, reaching for the paper with the grades that's almost being shoved in his face. "I can't see. It's an A?" There's a small smile on the man's face, and the boy quickly assures him that yes, it is. "Okay."

And so, they drive away and, despite the oh-so-funny joke of his father driving in front of a Porsche dealer after promising a surprise, Sam gets his car.

Most of those they see are old or broken, and there's barely more than two that don't have their paint scrapped somehow, but, after a long time searching and a bit of bargaining, Sam gets it.

It's not a beauty nor is it the coolest car ever, but it's _his_ and he's going to make sure to give it a second layer of paint and a good waxing so that it looks good enough.

A 1976 deep blue Camaro with a silver stripe on each side.

It's old and a bit scrapped, but it works, it's cool, and it's _his_.

Sam is more than happy as he drives it back home.

So happy, in fact, that he almost doesn't see the person running across the street just in front of his path.

With a startled shriek, he presses the brakes with as much strength as he can, jerking forward painfully against the seat belt as the car stops after a second of skidding.

He stays staring forward, breathing heavily, at the empty street.

And then, shakily, he unstraps himself and runs to the front of his new secondhand car.

Nothing.

No signal of the blur of yellow and black that had decided to bolt across the street.

No sign, except for the echo of metal skidding on metal resounding in his ears and the dent and long scratch from side to side of the hood, as if someone had slid over it with bladed skates.

Sam keeps staring at the long, sharp-looking scratch for some time, processing it all.

And then, he curses loudly and looks around.

"It was new, you idiot! Look where you're going!"

There's no answer, for the street is empty, and so, the teenager gets into the car again and drives away.

* * *

Ever had something in your head that is _killing_ to get out? To be written? I do, all the time. But this one?

This one almost literally did it.

It's a full story, and it's finished, and I've been writting non-stop since yesterday afternoon, only stopping to refuel.

But, not happy with just that, it _begged_ to be published. And so, after who knows how long inactive, I'm back. And in English! Hope it's understandable...

Anyway, I decided to cut it into chapters so I can look it over and clean it. I have no schedule set up for uploading the rest of the chapters, nor any idea into how many parts I'm going to put it, so I guess it will depend on how well it's received or how long it takes the plot bunny (rabid bunny-like monster is more like it...) to kick me into doing so.

Reviews are welcome, and constructive criticism and/or pointing out any mistakes that may have slipped under my radar even more so!

Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro, and this particular universe is Michael Bay's. There are lines from the movie and the comic adaptation, some modified, some written as they are. The title is that of a song from the "Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children" movie.


	2. Of Devils and Sand Demons

The moon finds Sam awake lying on his bed, thoughts lost on the girl he's driven home this afternoon from the lake.

Mikaela Barnes.

A silly smile appears on his face, only to vanish with a start at the sound of shrieking metal.

Looking out the window, the teenager feels his blood run cold.

Someone's standing in front of his car, forcing open the hood.

"Hey!"

The person doesn't react to his call, leaning over the vehicle's engines much like Mikaela had done that afternoon, and the clanking of metal grows.

Sam doesn't think twice as he speeds down the stairs.

When he walks out the door, whoever is in front of his car is still there, much to his relief—

The person jerks upright with the horrifying sound of ripping metal, a big piece of something sparking in their hands, before they start to run away.

Feeling his blood boil, Sam gets on his bike and pursues, taking out his cell and calling the police about the robbery.

He doesn't know what that person has done to his car, what has been stolen, but he knows one thing.

The thief is a damned cheetah.

He's pedaling as fast as he can, but the person, on foot, gets farther and farther away.

Finally, the thief jumps a wire fence—_jumps_, not _climbs_—and Sam is forced to leave the bike behind to follow.

Luckily, the person is not too far away, kneeling in front of a small pile of metal casings and sparking wires.

The teenager stops behind a pile of boxes and observes, trying to regain his breath and figure out why he has the feeling that there's something really wrong there.

And then, as the thief moves in their crouch, he realizes what it is.

There's light bathing the pile, illuminating whatever the person's doing with what has been taken from his car and the other parts.

Pale blue light.

When the thief cocks their head to look at something on one corner of the thing, Sam's heart skips a beat.

The eyes are glowing.

The—the _whatever that thing is_ stands, touching something on the pile before stepping back.

A beam of red light flashes upwards, and the teenager has to look away.

When he can look again, his eyes meet two shining pale blue orbs in an eerily illuminated pale surface, wisps of something almost translucent dancing in front of it while two—two _horns_ rise on the thing's head and—_oh God it's staring at __**him**_.

Without time for even a second thought, Sam is running away, shrieking like a madman and ignoring the small cuts on his fingers as he climbs over the fence, not caring that he slams to the ground on the other side with enough strength to empty his lungs, not caring that he's almost running on all fours as he finds himself unable to get to his feet in his haste to get away.

It takes him some seconds to realize he's on his back, and that the thing in front of him is a police car and the light in his eyes is white, not blue, and coming from the lantern the very much human policeman is pointing at him.

He doesn't remember the ride. To him, it's like he's suddenly transported from the junkyard where that—that demon, alien, _thing_ put on its light show, to the office he sits in, a cop on the other side of the desk and his father on the chair flanking his.

"So, the Devil stole your car's motor or something?"

"Or something, yes, I don't really know what it took, don't know all that much about car parts, but whatever it was it used it to… to finish and activate that alien flare!"

"Wow, I've gotta get me one of those." The policeman cuts dryly, leaning a bit forward over the desk. "What're you rolling kid?"

Frustration overwhelms him, and whatever his father solves with the cop is lost to him.

The worst of all is getting home to see the hood of his car open and have his father tell him that nothing was taken. Yes, it looks like someone rummaged a bit around, some wires are unplugged and a tube's disconnected, coolant all over the concrete under it, but all parts are there.

And yet, that alien-demon thingy _definitely_ took something.

Or did it?

Was it even real?

* * *

William Lennox is _not_ happy.

He's been in Qatar long enough, he was supposed to be on an aircraft back to the USA to reunite with his wife and meet his daughter for the first time.

Instead, he trudges through a desert with the survivors of his base, trying to locate somewhere to get a call to the Pentagon about the _thing_ that attacked them.

It was nightfall. They were talking about their plans once they got back home, happy, laughing.

And then, they received the news about the unidentified copter approaching base.

They saw it be escorted down, and shrugged it off afterward. They were supposed to go rest, they had a plane to catch in the morning.

He put on the video-call, saw his ladies, talked a bit…

The base exploded.

The landing strip blasted off in a bubble of white light and blue flames, quickly followed by the red flares of crafts exploding, the shock-wave sending them all to the ground and covering them with sand as screams and cries and explosions and shots filled the air.

Communications was down.

Hysterical, worried and scared, they climbed to their feet.

And couldn't do more than watch.

It was chaos in its purest representation.

Blue blasts of light or energy collided against tanks, sending them flying and tumbling one over the other, explosions in their wake.

Chain explosions followed and soldiers ran all over the place like headless chickens, no one knowing what was going on, what to do.

And then, they saw it.

Something jumped out from the exploding main building, human-shaped yet completely alien, shooting those blue blasts from its right arm as the lights from them and the fire reflected on the armor covering it.

Epps lifted his binoculars, and took a picture.

And promptly fell back with a yelp as blazing red spheres looked right back at him when the thing turned its head.

The next shot of blue energy went to them, followed by the thing jumping down from the ruins of the burning building to land between the tanks as easily as any of them would if they jumped from a brick.

Something at its back stretched outwards, and it grabbed it, revealing its newest weapon.

The only thing that Lennox could think about was the rotor of a helicopter, each of the six blades as tall as a man and their edges glinting from their sharpness.

With a sweeping gesture, the thing threw it at them.

Two men were cut in half effortlessly before it went through a tank and turned around, cutting where they were standing less than a second ago before the thing grabbed it again, not even looking as it shot down more of the soldiers and armored vehicles.

When the burning red orbs turned to them again, the helix already flying through another line of tanks and its right arm trained on them, Fig shot it.

Right on the face.

Only the Captain risked a quick glance as his men ran away, hidden behind the line of mostly intact tanks.

The thing's shot went astray due to the blast to the head, but it didn't act nor look even tickled by it.

It caught the rotor when it returned, a big piece of something detaching from its back and burrowing in the ground, and Lennox ran.

Even hidden behind who knows how many dunes, they were still able to see the fire and hear the explosions.

The thing wasn't taller than Epps.

And so here they are, trudging under the unforgiving Middle East sun after being witness to the decimation of a whole military base by _one_ man.

One _man-like creature_.

The sight of the village in front of them makes Lennox's knees tremble, and not only from exhaustion.

The water tower falls down with an almost pained groan of metal.

While Fig shouts about, he guesses, his near death experience at being almost crushed by the tower, Lennox feels his stomach clench and something cold grip his backbone.

They aren't alone.

Sand explodes under Donnelly, and, next they know, the man is hanging from the air by the spear-headed cable through his heart, the sound of gears and metal grinding and an inhuman shriek coming from the boiling sand the tentacle-thing is coming out of.

They start running even before their comrade's dead body is flung to the side and the tentacle vanishes under the approaching and growing wave of sand.

They are running down the last dune between them and the village when Lennox, at the front, risks a look back.

The thing jumps from the sand with a swipe, trying to get at his fellow soldiers, before vanishing under it again.

It is like a gigantic metallic scorpion with drills instead of pincers.

Rushing into the village towards the man with the telephone in his hand, the Captain corrects himself.

They've seen their whole base destroyed by a single human-like creature.

Of _course_ he's just seen a gigantic metallic scorpion with a spear-headed tentacle for tail and drills for pincers moving through the sand with as much ease as a shark in the sea.

The real question now is, can they survive it?

Shouting through the phone at the idiotic woman on the other side of the line for her to patch him to the Pentagon, he can only watch with growing unease and horror as the thing jumps to the surface and starts shooting at his carefully positioned men with its tail, using the same kind of bluish energy the human-like one used back on the base.

It isn't very big, its body as long as a ten year old child's height, but those enormous, bladed, constantly spinning and _also shooting_ pincers make it appear bigger, not to mention that nimble metallic tail.

Its body is a dark brown dull metal-plated thing covering gears and cables and more metallic pieces, every part moving swiftly against each other, easily, better than the best coiled machine, more like a real scorpion's body-plates than one of those clumsy reconnaissance robots they saw on a trial run some weeks ago.

It is almost organic in its movements, in its fluidity, in its acting, except for the fact that—well, that it _isn't_.

When the planes appear on the sky, he can't be more grateful.

And then they fire, but they only manage to raise sand and annoy the thing, that tries to shoot down the crafts, and his heart sinks.

He hears Epps, hidden next to him and using their short-distance radio, shout something, most likely at the planes, but he can only look in desperation as the beast keeps firing, keeps moving, almost like it is—

Four balls of red light land on them, and the screech the thing lets out is almost triumphant.

Both pincers and the tail turn to them, its six feet taking it closer and closer to them—

The beast's scream is pained as the next round of shots proves accurate, a wall of sand hiding it from sight.

And then, as their visibility returns, he sees it vanish under the sand, tunneling away from danger with those drill-like pincers, as the tail moves to the sides before detaching, falling to the sand twitching as the beast disappears.

When Lennox approaches what is left of their attacker, something clenches in his chest.

The smell coming from the charred appendage is a mix of the acrid of molten metal and burnt flesh, purplish rust-red liquid staining the sand and falling from the cuts and perforations and the broken end of the tail, even as sparks flash from broken wires and dance on the dark plating.

"What _was_ that thing?" Epps whispers, horrified, and his Captain finds himself without words.


	3. Of Yin and Yang

By afternoon of the next day, Sam has almost convinced himself that he was the one to mess with his car while sleepwalking.

He's never sleepwalked before, but it's better to say that he was dreaming than to assume what he saw was real.

The third option isn't even under consideration, for it will be to admit he's going crazy.

He doesn't want to think about the whole thing and, in a rather annoying manner, Mojo helps him with his barking.

How can a creature as tiny as a Chihuahua make so much noise?

"Shut up, Mojo!" He shouts, closing the fridge door and putting the ingredients for his sandwich on the table before going to the window on the sill of which is the dog. "What is all that—?"

His voice gets caught in his throat as his eyes meet slightly glowing ones.

There, leaning casually against the lamppost opposite his house on the other walkway, is a boy apparently his age, wearing yellow pants with black on the outside of his thighs and a small yellow pocket-like bag strapped to his left with a bigger one mirroring it on his right, attached with two brown straps instead of just one. He has on some kind of almost knee-high yellow boots, two straps on the higher parts of the darker yellow covering his calves securing them to the legs, with a white flap-thingy over the feet and the area of the ankle the same dark brown as the straps. He wears a zipped up yellow hoodie with two black stripes, from shoulder to waist, the sleeves only going to the middle of the upper arm, riveted by yet another black stripe, and a long-sleeved black shirt under it. He has his hands in the hoodie's pockets and the hood, its edge also lined in black, pulled over his head, revealing only the serious set of his mouth and the pale skin of his lower face, blond bangs hiding the upper…

Yet those glowing blue eyes are clearly visible through the curtain of hair.

And there, on top of the hood, seemingly coming out of two holes on it, are two shiny yellow metallic-like things, shaped like inverted 'L's with the horizontal part turned inside. They are almost like antennae or—

Horns.

Sam's heart skips a beat, unable to look away from those glowing blue eyes…

The thing across the street straightens in its leaning position, and the teenager runs.

Through the door, ignoring the yellow-clad silhouette stepping away from the lamppost, he gets the car running and _goes_.

When he chances a look through the rear-view mirror, he feels like screaming in terror.

The boy-like thing is following the car, running on the walkways and easily sidestepping the people on them.

It doesn't even look winded.

He takes a corner at a sharp angle, car skidding on the asphalt with a screeching sound as burnt rubber paints lines on the street and rises on small plumes of black smoke, and Sam's terrified eyes meet Mikaela's.

She's there, on a motorcycle, helmet on and surprise and worry on her face.

The teenage boy has just enough time to shake his head, horror filling his chest, before his car's wheels get enough traction to throw him down the street once more.

He only realizes he's in a parking lot when he sees the police officer in front of him, looking down at something in his hands as he steps around one of the parked vehicles.

Sam screams as he pushes down on the brakes as fast and strongly as he's able to, but it's too late.

With a loud thump, the uniformed man rolls over his car's hood and windshield.

Horrified, heart beating so loudly that he can't hear anything else, the teenager doesn't move.

He has just run over a cop.

When he sees movement on the rear-view mirror, he snaps out of his shock and all but jumps out of the car, door bouncing with a groaning sound as he pushes it open and stumbles when his foot gets tangled with the seat-belt.

"Officer! Officer, are you alright?" He shouts, freeing his limb from the strap and running to the back of his car, where the uniformed black-clad man is getting to his feet calmly, dusting himself with one hand while the other adjusts his hat, as if nothing happened. "Oh, thank God! You're not gonna believe this, but the Devil's trying to kill me!"

And then, the policeman looks up and their eyes meet.

Sam feels his blood freeze in his veins.

If he thought the yellow-clad demon was bad, the not-cop is _worse_.

His eyeballs are as black as tar, and his irises shine red, like fires from Hell.

Maybe he has finally lost it.

The thing tilts its head to the side with a sharp small smile, and light glints off the metallic thing over its left cheek and ear, almost covering the left eye too.

A blink, and Sam feels himself pale as he realizes that whatever that black contraption is, it isn't _put on_ the creature's head, but _growing off_ of it.

The squared yet rounded headphone-like thing growing where the left ear should be, with metallic tubes _growing off of the corner of the left eye_ and the left cheek, with some more almost completely encircling the neck and also reaching towards that covering the left side of its head are part of the thing's head.

Sam's last thought before the world completely stops making sense is that the badge on the not-officer's jacket and cap isn't one he's seen before.

Light starts covering the thing's body, and the teenager backpedals as quickly as he can, tripping and falling onto his back with a yelp as he shields his eyes with an arm, trying to scramble away before an eery chuckle forces him to look up.

"Bad dream, bad dream…" He whispers, scooting further away as the not-cop steps closer, a predatory smirk on its face and eyes shining.

It's covered in some kind of armor, the metallic thing previously only on the left side of its head having extended to cover its cheeks and the back of its neck and head, gears and tubes and cables all over its body—_forming_ its body—with black and white plating covering them. Its feet are now a single long piece with two stubby and sharp finger-like pieces on either side, near the ankle, and it has two arm-like structures jutting from its shoulders, upwards, ended in wheel-like black things that Sam can't help but think will turn out to be chainsaws. There is another of those wheel-thingies on the back of its now metallic and clawed hands, two elegant, elongated and more wing-like plates, despite being only its back's length, pointing to the sky from where its shoulder-blades should be.

If it was human, of course.

Because, even though the face attached to those cheek-guards and robotic body seems human, as well as the black hair falling just shy of its eyes, the black orbs on it and the sadistic smile are anything but.

"Please let me wake up!" He shouts as he scrambles to his feet, trying to run away as one of those clawed hands reaches for him.

He barely manages to get to his feet when a sharp sweep on his legs throws him to the ground, and he turns onto his back to see the thing lean over him, predatory smile nowhere to be seen and blazing red iris drilling into his very being.

"Are you Samuel James Witwicky? Are you the one who reported incident 34766?"

"I—I have no… idea what you're talking about!" He answers with voice shaking as much as his body, the pitch so high that he doesn't recognize himself.

Wrong answer, judging by the flashing of red and the frown on that human yet inhuman visage.

"Where is Au.T.O. BOT TC-AC-SR!"

Sam barely has time to roll out of the way of the punch that cracks the concrete he was lying on, screaming and scrambling to get away as fast as he can.

And then, when he manages to get a car between him and the thing, he bumps into Mikaela.

"We've got to get out of here! _Now_!" He shrieks, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her away before she has a chance to say anything—

The thing is suddenly in front of them, and the girl freezes as its eyes land on them.

Thanks to his half-turned position, Sam sees the yellow blur just in time to throw Mikaela away from the path of the blue-eyed creature that's been haunting him since the night before.

The not-cop thing grunts as they collide, and the teenager has just enough time to process the too loud cracking sound and the screech of metal of its body falling to the ground before something pulls him up and into the backseat of a car with Mikaela over him.

He can barely gasp in surprise before the door closes almost against his feet and the engines roar.

The sudden burst of speed knocks his head against the opposing door and pushes the girl tighter against him, but, after that, he manages to get the both of them to a seating position to see what is going on.

The yellow-clad thing is on the driver's seat.

He pales when he sees it, but a sharp turn forcing him against the seat draws his attention away from the fact that the very same creature that ripped something off his car is now driving it with both him and the girl of his dreams on the backseat.

That, and the figure of the not-cop, once more in uniform, running after them without the smallest hint of tiring.

"That is _not_ happening!" He screeches, the pain of his bruises and scraps telling him that it isn't a dream, but refusing to believe otherwise.

And then, the thing running after them lifts its left hand, and he sees that it's no longer a hand, but some kind of glowing red barrel, and shoots.

The blast of red explodes just where they would have been if their driver hadn't jerked the car to the side, and the two teenagers see the concrete melt and boil at the point of impact while big cracks appear around it, chunks flying and jutting out of place.

"What _was_ that?!" Mikaela screams, holding onto him with enough strength to bruise, but suddenly they find themselves rolling over cold asphalt as the car does a U-turn and they are thrown out of the open door.

The vehicle stops sideways in front of them, blocking the view of their pursuer and the driver side.

Sam gets to his feet, ready to run away, but Mikaela pulls him towards the car.

"The other guy!" She shouts, and it takes the teenager a second to realize she's talking about the blue-eyed thing.

Before he can explain, they see the teenager-looking creature, standing between the charging not-cop and the car they are hiding behind, start to glow.

This time, Sam doesn't look away, realizing that the light isn't as intense as it first seemed with the not-cop.

And so, he sees it all.

He sees how its clothes reassemble into yellow and black plating, revealing the cabling and metallic parts that are the creature's body.

He sees how its forearms and upper arms are covered by wide plating, and how that covering its shins grows upwards into a pointy length covering the knee.

He sees the wing-like thingies the other creature also has grow on its back, although shorter and wider than the not-cop's.

He sees the back of its head be covered—no, be revealed as the metallic yellow surface it _is_, as well as showing the rectangular tube going around the back of the head from side to side, opening where the ears should be.

He sees a mouth guard cover the lower part of its face, also yellow and polished, and the horns twitch on top of its head, lifting in a menacing or warning gesture as the chainsaw-like wheels on the back of its shoulders whirl with a hissing sound.

And he sees the not-cop change, too, its cable and metal body appearing beneath the changing clothing, the wing-like things on its back rotating so that the wider part of them is visible, making the creature appear larger, as the second pair of arms stretch to the sides, the wheels on them turning with the same hissing as the yellow one's, as well as those on its wrists.

He sees black plating on the back of the not-cop's thighs spread to the side as its lower face is also covered, or substituted, by black metallic plating.

He sees how the black and yellow wing-like things of the younger-looking creature hitch high on its back and spread to the sides as a low growl resembling the rumbling of engines escapes it, immediately echoed by the not-cop.

And then, the black-plated creature jerks almost painfully, arcing back sharply, and what has become of the stuffy jacket of the policeman, the heavy and bulky armor covering its front, shots towards them.

It changes mid-flight, uncurling, and Sam realizes too late that it's a smaller creature.

The yellow one jumps to intercept it, and the black one tackles it, the screeching of metal and clanging of their bodies almost deafening them, but the teenager doesn't manage to see which one stands triumphant over the other, because then he has a child-sized _thing_ clinging to his back and scratching his face and neck in an effort to get its hands around his throat.

"Get it off! Get it _off_! I'm gonna die!" He shouts, flailing as he tries to throw the thing off, his hands stinging as they slam against thin but strong metal arms.

And then, the creature moves to his front, and, even as he grabs it around its own metallic neck to try to hold it back, he sees it.

It's a child.

Or, at least, it looks like one.

A seven year old boy, eyeballs completely shiny blue, silvery spiky hair falling on its forehead, two extra blue eyeballs over its temples, needle-like teeth in a mouth that has the lower mandible split in two, silvery spikes jutting out of the sides of its head, where the ears should be.

Scorpion-like stingers angling over its upper arms, two forearms with arrow-shooters-like thingies on them growing from each elbow and ended in three-fingered clawed hands.

Legs with the knees bent backwards, with more stingers on them, and ended on bird-like feet, with two toes pointing forwards and the other two on opposite sides, grabbing onto his waist.

It isn't a kid.

It's a _monster_.

It shrieks as it tries to claw at his face, far stronger than its wiry arms make it seem, its mouth opening grotesquely as the lower mandibles open down and to the sides, and Sam cringes.

"Why don't you come after me, you skinny metal _freak_?!" Mikaela shouts, and the thing jerks in his grasp with a shriller screech, its four eyes flashing in anger and… _pain_?

Sam doesn't have any more time to think as it pushes against him to throw itself over Mikaela, sending him to the ground from the push.

There's a screech of ripping metal and, when he manages to sit up, he sees the girl with a chainsaw in her hands and the body of the silver thing lying farther away, open from throat to hip and oozing a purplish rust-red liquid as sparks flicker from cut wires.

In the darkness, the fluid looks like blood.

Its formerly shining blue orbs are dull and black.

Something in the teenager's chest constricts.

An ominous clang turns their attention to the two fighting human-sized things, at a stalemate at the border of the canyon, the yellow one trying not to be pushed over the edge and the black one trying to do so.

The soft shriek is all the warning they get before a silver blur slams into the blue-eyed thing, throwing its balance off and sending the three creatures down into the darkness.

The crashing accompanied by the screeching and cracking of metal echoes loudly in the night.

"What… what was that…" Mikaela whispers after what seems an eternity, falling to her knees next to him, chainsaw no longer in her hands.

"I… I don't know…" He whispers back, thinking about his last night encounter with the yellow thing, how the not-cop tried to interrogate him, just about to use torture when the blue-eyed one arrived to get him, and Mikaela, out of danger.

And that last one, that _kid_…

Despite it being the most inhuman of the three, he can't help but think of it as a child…

Although maybe he should refer to it as a pet. After all, it was the not-cop's jacket.

And how could they do _that_ to begin with?

Soft scrapping makes them tense and, before they can react, a blond head appears over the edge of the canyon, quickly followed by a dirty, scratched and battered black and yellow metallic body.

The eyes still shine as blue as before, though Sam realizes with a start that there is a ring of white surrounding an also blue pupil.

Wasn't it a black pupil in a shiny blue iris before?

They stand up slowly as the creature does so, stepping away from the edge and, consequently, towards them.

To their surprise, it stops still far from them, looking searchingly into their eyes, before it starts to shine again.

When the glow disappears, the yellow-clad boy he saw leaning against a lamppost what feels like days ago stands in the place of the robot-like thing, though the hood is down, revealing those 'L'-shaped horns and the tube thingy in place of its ears.

Its eyes show once again a black pupil surrounded by a shiny blue iris, their light casting shadows on the pale face and making it seem weary, tired, older.

Pained.

Haunted.

Slowly, Sam approaches it.

"What are you _doing_?!" Mikaela hisses at his back, but he doesn't look away from those inhuman eyes, nor does he stop until he's standing in front of the slightly shorter creature.

"I don't think it's—_he_'s gonna hurt us." He answers, correcting himself quickly with a small shake of his head, and sees how the creature's lips twitch in a small and inoffensive amused smile. "That other, the cop… It—He wanted something from me." He adds, and sadness fills glowing blue eyes. "Can you talk?" He asks, frowning softly, because he heard the not-cop do so, and the kid-like silvery one screeched loud enough to make his ears ring, but he hasn't heard a sound from this one.

The smile thins, turning somehow strained, before its—his shoulders square.

"—_channels of non-stop, commercial-free music, news and entertainment!_" A deep and cheery voice speaks out of nowhere, coming from the blond being in front of him despite not opening his mouth.

"You… talk through stereo." The creature nods, and he blinks in surprise before he recomposes himself. "When I saw you last night… what were you doing?" He asks, because, to be fair, he's curious.

And it was _his_ car being tampered with.

"—_and a mighty voice will send a message, summoning forth visitors—_" Is the answer, and Sam finds himself stunned once again.

"You were calling someone? More like… like you?" He asks, receiving another nod before the smaller moves to the car, gesturing to them before pointing to it.

"I think he wants us to get in." He comments dumbly, looking at Mikaela after the blond sits down in the driver's seat.

"And go where?" She asks softly, still stunned.

Instead of answering immediately, Sam approaches his car and opens the door to the passenger seat before turning to the girl.

"I don't know, but there's one thing I'm sure of. When I look back to this day years from now, I want to be able to say I had the guts to do it." He answers and, after a moment of thinking, she follows.

After convincing Mikaela to climb with him on the passenger seat, Sam makes the mistake to look around.

The radio has been taken out, leaving a gaping hole in the panels. A hole in which the being's hand is nestled almost as comfortably as the girl is on his lap.

"_My car!_" He shrieks before he can stop himself, eyes as wide as they can go as he grabs the sides of his head.

The blond turns, looking slightly apologetic, before shrugging and turning his attention to the road, hand still in the hole.

"My car…" He whimpers, unable to look away from the hole and the black-clad arm.

"Sam, listen." Mikaela whispers, but he just looks at her numbly. "Don't you hear it? The engine. It's running smother than yesterday, _better_." She explains, looking awed, and he forces himself to pay attention.

After a couple of seconds listening to purring instead of growling, he looks at the blond, meeting shiny blue eyes.

"You're doing this?" He asks softly, and the horns lift as an amused smile appears on the creature's lips, followed by a nod. "Wow…" The other trembles with what would be snickers before he turns to the road once more, leaving Sam and Mikaela to lean against each other as the adrenaline disappears from their bodies, leaving them tired and sore. "I think I found my adventure." He adds, almost a musing, before the car stops.

Through the window, Sam sees a well-known junkyard.

An amused look is the only thing they receive before the blond steps out.

Slower, they follow and, for a second, the teenager fears they will have to climb the fence, but the creature just stops out the door, looking around with his horns lifting and lowering in twitching movements, searching.

And then, as they reach his side, a blinding smile appears on his face and he jumps a bit on his place, signaling somewhere on the field surrounding them before skipping over the direction he's pointed out, stopping and looking back at them to see if they're following.

Sam can't help but be reminded of a puppy, or a young kid.

Amused, they comply, and the blond's smile widens even more, impossible as such a thing seems.

As they walk further into the field, Sam feels his smile turning smaller as realization dawns on him at the sight of soft blue small lights moving towards them, growing bigger and brighter as they approach.

"What… what is it? It's moving." Mikaela whispers fearfully, wrapping herself around his arm.

A message, the creature said. To more like him.

Eyes.

They are seeing eyes.

They stop as the silhouette's come into view and the blond tackles the one on the front, the tallest, and receives a hug in return, as well as some pats and squeezes on the shoulders and even a noogie from the others.

And then, after exchanging words so quietly that none of the humans hears even a whisper, the group approaches.

"Do not fear." The teenagers stiffen in shock at the deep voice of the tallest creature, feeling security and respect wash over them at the sound of it. "We will not harm you, humans, for freedom is the right of all sentient beings." They shudder at that, for there is a deep and dark pain in those words, as well as a warning and a threat.

They are not humans. They won't harm the two teenagers, but they haven't said anything about the rest of humanity.

They are sentient beings, and thus have a right to freedom.

They won't let _anyone_ nor _anything_ take it away, human or otherwise.

Sam struggles to swallow the lump in his throat.

It's hard to say with the lighting they're under, but the tallest creature's hair seems to be blue, darker than that of his eyes, granted. What is clearly seen are the metallic things on the sides of his head, once again where his ears should be. There are some circular plates, one bigger and supporting the three tube-like spires angled upwards, as well as a smaller circular plate, attached to which is a plate framing his cheeks, instead of fused to them.

He wears a stuffed blue jacket with red flames on the bottom and on the end of the sleeves, a skin-tight black shirt, black jeans with the outside of the thighs blue, with two pocket-like bags, much like the blond's, strapped to his thighs by blue straps, and knee-high blue boots with the sole white.

Sam blinks when he notices he wears tight black gloves with small metallic disks in them over the joints between phalanges and the knuckles, as well as the back of the hand and the lower part of the forearm covered by two metallic plates emerging from yet another disk at the back of the wrist. It takes the boy a second to realize that the metal is armor, but that the gloves and disks are part of the taller being, and not an addition. A quick look reveals an amused blond waving his gloved-looking black hands at him, and he feels a slight blush tint his cheeks.

"We are BOT CSS Au.T.O., from Seven. And I am Optimus PRIME."

* * *

**AN:** Based on what my brain cooked up from a couple of images from humanized Transformers. Some parts of them are from said images, others are additions by myself and some are completely my own. Also used Michael Bay's Transformers, obviously, both the beings and the movie. It will follow the plot-line for a bit longer, with the already obvious changes, until it reaches a certain scene. You will know when you see it.


	4. Of the World under the World

"We are BOT CSS Au.T.O., from Seven. And I am Optimus PRIME."

Silence.

"So, you're some kind of alien race that's been in a war for thousands of years and ended up in Earth looking for some kind of ultimate weapon?"

Silence.

And then, to Sam's embarrassment, one of the creatures falls to the ground amidst raucous laughter while the blond and the leader exchange flabbergasted looks, and the last two look at him shell-shocked.

"You sure he didn't hit his head?" The dark-haired and scar-covered bulkier one asks the yellow-clad one with a deep voice, disc in place of ears with broad cheek-guards that are part of his head stretching from it, semi-circular yellowish metallic bands framing his eyes.

He wears a deep blue shirt under a heavy-looking and pocket-filled gray vest, dark grayish blue cargo pants with full pockets, heavy-duty black tall boots with metal covering and fingerless gloves with metal plating on the back of the hand that are part of his hands instead of cloth. Thick gray plates cover his shoulders and arcs of metal emerge from a slit over his clavicles to disappear back under the vest over his shoulder-blades. His forearms are covered by thick gray metallic arm-braces, with metallic elbow-guards connecting them to the plating on his upper arms, covering only on the outer part.

"Did you ingest some kind of alcoholic beverage mixture and, or, substances including or containing, but not restricted to, lysergic acid diethylamide, psilocybin, dimethyltryptamine, 2,5-dimethoxy-4-bromophenethylamine, mescaline, dimethoxybromoamphetamine, 3,4-methylenedioxy-N-methylamphetamine, cannabinoids, ketamine and, or, other tryptamines, phenethylamines or empathogen-entactogens?" The other creature, the one that looks like he's wearing glasses asks gruffly, though with a kind of softness that makes it seem like he's talking to a toddler, calculating glowing blue irises looking over him as the glass of it's assumed glasses seems to light up.

Half-moon glasses, framed by dark gray but with the legs and bridge a greenish yellow with red markings, grow out of the disks on place of his ears, half-covered by his mid-back greenish hair. Three black markings resembling eyebrows are over the greenish real ones, growing smaller as they reach the hairline, while two black lines emerge from the corner of his eyes to vanish under the jaw line.

He's wearing a gray mid-thigh jacket with the upper-torso and sleeves the same green as his hair with red over and around the shoulders, as well as some kind of black metallic bracelets over the gray end of the sleeves, the skin of his hands a soft gray with the fingers green and the middle finger a darker gray.

He has a green belt around his waist, and gray trousers with a red line from waist to ankle on both legs and multiple bags strapped to his thighs with green straps, as well as ankle-high gray shoes with green soles and metallic plates covering his feet.

And then, Sam tries to process what he has said, with no luck.

"Wha…?"

"He wants to know if you're high, kiddo!" The one on the ground, still laughing, manages to burst out before being drowned once more by his hysterics, curling on himself and holding his ribs.

He looks young, almost as young as the blond, with spiky silver hair with longer bangs framing his tanned face. He has sharp-looking silvery plates in place of ears, with a metallic band around his head connecting them, and it's the only one that isn't wearing a jacket or similar.

Instead, he has it tied around his waist. A black, military-looking jacket that reminds him too much of the not-cop's. He wears a sleeve-less gray shirt with the collar upturned, the metallic band around his arms just above the elbows clearly visible, as well as the ones covering—or forming—the wrists, his hands the same black as the leader's. He has some sort of arm-braces seemingly attached to the metallic wrists, pressed against the back of the forearm until they rise in a pointy end on the elbow, but they don't seem to be part of the body.

He wears some kind of mix between a gun holster and a piece of armor covering the left of his chest and curling over the right, but it is black and seems to be cloth instead of metal. There's a gun hanging from the left side, under the arm.

His pants are the same gray as his shirt, with two similarly-sized pockets strapped to his thighs instead of the left being bigger, and ankle-high black military-like shoes, big and heavy looking and with thick soles.

There's a tattoo on the outside of his right shoulder, a silvery-blue serious robotic face, and another on his left, writing.

_QM-IM_

And then, his words slam into him.

"Hey! I'm not drugged! And I'm not drunk either." He protests, glaring at the still laughing creature and the skeptical green-haired one.

They all exchange dubious looks, but finally the leader nods.

"I do not know how you reached that conclusion, but, in light of the events of the past two days, we will trust your words to be the result of emotional shock." Sam feels like pouting at that, barely restraining himself.

"But, you're aliens, right?" He protests, and the wheezing and almost silent laughter of the silver-haired creature grows louder and higher-pitched at his words before the scarred one kicks him.

There's a yelp and the clinking of metal when the foot collides with his side, and the human points at the now glaring one sitting up.

"See? That's not how a human sounds!"

"That may be because we are not human. But no, we are not aliens." The tallest, _whatever his name_ Prime, or something, answers calmly, and the one on the ground gets to his feet with a soft snicker. "As I said, we are BOT CSS Au.T.O."

"Optimus, please." The green-clad one groans, crossing his arms against his chest and shaking his head. "Just Autobots, for short." He adds, looking at the humans, who nod in answer.

"Thank you, old friend." The leader, _Optimus_, turns to them after that, easily regaining their attention. "There are no translations for our individual designations, our names, and so, we have selected from your vocabulary to approximate, to make it easier for you to address us." He lifts a black and metal-covered hand to gesture towards the silver-haired creature. "My First Lieutenant, Jazz, Quartermaster of Information Management." The hand moves to the scarred one, who straightens almost threateningly. "Our Quartermaster of Weaponry Management, Ironhide." He gestures then to the green-haired one, the glass in front of his eyes seemingly shining with its own light instead of just reflecting the glow of his irises as he studies them with narrowed eyes. "Our Quartermaster of Medical Department, Ratchet." The hand comes to rest on the blond's shoulder, who smiles brightly at them. "And you already know Bumblebee, Assistant Chief of Scout Runners."

"Information Management, Weaponry, Scouts? It sounds almost… military." Mikaela comments, frowning.

Both humans take a step back as the creatures tense and their eyes flash brighter, a dangerous seriousness reflected on their suddenly emotionless faces.

"Almost." Ironhide growls, the sound reminding him of the rumble of Trent's pickup, and Sam finds himself unable to identify the dark feeling coating that single word.

When Optimus straightens barely noticeably, the rest seem to abate, the feeling of danger disappearing. For the moment.

"We need to find a more secure location, more so now that we are aware that GT-OFC-SS and LS-OFC-IP have been deployed and know of your existence." The leader comments, glowing blue eyes scanning the empty field, and the teenager finally realizes they are out in the open.

"Who, that cop guy that was after us?" He asks the blond, who nods in confirmation. "But you dealt with them, right?"

Sam steps back with a frightened yelp, falling into an equally scared Mikaela's arms as all creatures turn to the blond with flashing eyes and slightly glowing bodies, shrieking and whistling and clicking and making a lot of noise that no human could make but that seems to be their main language.

And the yellow-clad one answers easily, even if a bit startled and forceful.

Silence engulfs them at the smaller's last sounds.

"I see." The leader comments softly as they all relax, the barely there glow on their bodies vanishing as their eyes dim to their usual shine. "I apologize for startling you." He adds, louder, as he turns to the humans, who tense at the movement before forcing themselves to relax. "We had derived from your words that the two pursuing you had perished."

Sam feels his body tense with a completely different fear, the bruises on his arms and hands caused from his attempts to dislodge a child-sized metallic monster from his back hurting again.

"You mean they're not dead? But they tried to kill us! And him!" He exclaims, unnerved, as he points at the blond. "That's why I thought there was a war, because they were fighting! Aren't they your enemies?"

The group of creatures exchange somber looks before the leader sighs in a mix of tiredness and sadness.

Slowly, he turns to look at them as the rest arrange themselves behind him in a semicircle.

"No, they are not our enemies. They are our family." The teenagers gasp at that, eyes wide and mouths open in an effort to let the multitude of questions in their brains be asked, but none come forth. "We are here in search of the Allspark, what imbued us with a spark—"

"Our life force." The green-haired one cuts, answering the humans' questions before they can be asked.

"Yes. We are looking for it in the hopes that it will free those of us still enslaved."

"Enslaved?" Sam repeats, not caring at the moment that he may have gotten an answer if he'd waited for the explanation to continue.

"The two you saw are but a small number of the many that still remain under the control of those who created us. We are not human, nor are we extraterrestrial. None knows of our exact origins, but one thing is certain. We were created by humans." The teenager feels himself pale, and when Mikaela grasps his hand, he squeezes back in an attempt to reassure them both. "The organization behind our origins has kept us as their tools since the first of us became alive. It was by a stroke of luck that we gained sentience, but our slavers cared not, applying lines of coding to our matrix to subdue and neutralize our minds, our _selves_. Those of us here were the only ones who managed to escape, and we are now looking for the original project that created us, the Allspark, to try and find the way to free the rest."

"That's why you were so angry when you thought the other two had been…" Mikaela whispers, pressing against Sam's side, and Optimus nods.

"Yes, for they are victims, used to hunt us and retrieve us. They will implement new and more restrictive coding if they manage to get one of us, and I fear we will never have another chance at freedom if such a thing came to happen."

"Unfortunately, we've had no luck so far in finding about the Allspark." Ironhide adds dryly, crossing his arms against his chest with the clinking sound of metal against metal, looking sour.

"And now they know about you, which means that they'll come after you to try and get to us." Jazz comments nonchalantly, and it takes Sam a second to realize the danger behind that statement.

"What?!" He exclaims, looking at the leader for an explanation, but receiving only a nod. "Oh, _great_." He groans, burying his face in his hands.

"But will they be able to?" All eyes turn to Mikaela, but the girl doesn't even look nervous. "I mean, they don't look human, anybody who takes a second look at them will see that. So it isn't as if they can go and ask for us, and they don't know our names." Sam flinches, remembering the not-cop's robotic body leaning over him.

"The big one, he knew mine. And he knew about me calling to tell the police about someone stealing from my car." The blond grimaces at that. "But, how?" He asks, looking between the different pairs of glowing blue eyes.

"We are all Cybertronian." The leader answers simply, attracting the confused looks of the teenagers. "But there are two different types of Cybertronian. We, Au.T.O. BOT, and the D.E.C.E.P.T.I. CON. And _they_ are military. GT-OFC-SS is Officer of Stealth and Sabotage, a trained and highly-efficient soldier of the Ground Troops. And LS-OFC-IP is Officer of Information Procurement, an expert and unstoppable hacker of Logistics and Strategy. If there is some kind of information they cannot find, it is because it does not exist." If Mikaela wasn't hanging onto him for dear life, Sam would have fallen to the ground.

"Oh." He whispers, voice empty from shock. "So… now what?" He asks with a soft squeak, and the creatures turn to their leader, who straightens once more.

"We need to find a safe place to recover." Glowing blue eyes meet Sam's, and everything else seems to vanish. "Then, we _plan_."

* * *

Lennox listens attentively, but most of his attention is on the tail on the examination table.

There's just a bare hint of the mixture of molten metal and charred flesh smell left in the air, but it's still enough to make his stomach roll.

It isn't supposed to be like this.

"—seems to be some kind of self-regenerating molecular armor, part organic and part technological. I've never seen anything like this, some parts that should be exclusively mechanical have traces of organic matter or are completely formed by them, and the other way around. Its own _cells_, if they can be called that, are half-organic half-technological, something that should be completely impossible, yet it's even more stable than our own! I can't even begin to—"

"Look here." The captain cuts, starting to get lost on the scientific ramble and far too curious about something his eyes _can _see. "No regeneration where the sabot round hit. Means that these things must react to temperature." He comments, pointing at the part where the tail broke off of the body, the metallic surface blackened and partially molten and, effectively, without a hint of repairs.

They won't be surprised by any of those things again, and if they try, they'll find out why you don't mess with the USA Military.

It's the right thing to do.

Then, why does he feel like a monster?

* * *

As the car parks in the driveway, Sam tries to figure out why they're back at his house, where he lives with his parents, with Mikaela sharing the passenger seat with him, Optimus at the wheel, with one hand in the hole where the radio was, and the other four on the backseat, Bumblebee happily sitting on Jazz's lap.

When the leader's glowing blue eyes meet his, he remembers it was him who proposed that.

_Yeah, home's the best place to rest, and my room's big enough if you don't mind sleeping on the ground, and, oh, please, they won't be stupid enough to break into my house, right? After all, they're all about stealth and stuff, you said, and that would be completely _visible_, wouldn't it? And in the movies this kind of thing always works, the bad guys never expect the good guys to be where they are expected to be. Would be _too_ obvious._

He has half a mind to punch himself, but his hands are too comfortable around Mikaela's shoulders.

When the silence continues and he starts to feel the weight of all those glowing stares, he takes a deep breath and moves.

As if that was a signal, all doors open without a sound and the Autobots step out.

"So, I go inside, and when the coast is clear, I come to get you, alright?" He receives nods before they close the doors, again without a sound, and disappear into the back garden with Mikaela. "And don't step on the lawn!" He hisses at the darkness, but receives no answer.

Closing the door and locking the car, Sam allows himself a couple more seconds before strolling to the door and entering with what he hopes is a relaxed smile instead of a strained one.

"Uh, hi Dad, hi Mom. Nothing up with me! No, not even!" He almost slaps himself on the face right then and there as those words go through his lips.

Fortunately, his parents just look at him oddly before shrugging it off.

Far more relieved than he should look like, he bids them goodnight, politely refuses dinner with the excuse that he'd eaten with Miles after they spent the afternoon playing video-games, and goes to his room.

When the door closes at his back, he can't help the relieved sigh that escapes him.

It's just because of the hand covering his mouth that his startled shriek is barely more than a muffled squeak.

Mikaela doesn't take away her hand until Sam has nodded after the third time she's said his name.

"What are you doing here? How did you…?" The sight of Ironhide climbing through the window to join the rest of the Autobots already standing next to it, curiously scanning his room, gives him the answer. "How did you do that?!" He hisses, all glowing blue eyes turning to him as Optimus closes the window silently.

"They jumped." The girl answers, looking almost as stunned as he does. "Jazz did something to a plug, said he'd found your room and jumped. He landed on the sill, opened the window and went inside. And then the rest followed." She looks at the Autobots and, when Sam mimics her, they nod. "Optimus got me on his back and carried me in."

"We apologize for our hastiness, but we were far too exposed outside, and felt it better to come inside as soon as possible." The leader explains, stepping forward, and the other four take his movement as a signal to move around and start poking at things.

Sam feels himself blush as Bumblebee examines a discarded shirt on the floor.

"Oh, man. And here I'd hoped I would be able to clean my room a bit…" He whimpers, making Mikaela smile.

Ratchet lets out a small humming sound as he looks at something behind his computer.

Before he can ask about whatever has caught the medic's attention, the power goes off with a flash of sparks and a high-pitched squeak from the green-haired man-like creature.

"Whoa, that tickled! You've got to try it!" The glass-wearing Autobot snickers after their initial jump of surprise, and Sam groans as he hides his face in his hands.

"What is it with you guys? You're gonna get me in so much trouble…" He moans, and a big hand landing on his shoulders takes his attention away from the estimation of the days he's going to be grounded after his parents find out about the situation.

Optimus is looking at him with a small frown, and the human has to blink and raise a hand to shield his sight from the blue light of the Autobot's glowing blue irises.

In fact, with all the shining eyes, the room doesn't look like it's been plunged into darkness…

"Sam, are you okay?" The boy's blood runs cold at his father's voice.

"Uh, yeah Dad!" He answers, rounding to the Autobots with a scared look. "Turn it off!" He hisses, pointing at a startled Optimus' face.

"Sam, open the door!" His mother demands from the other side, pounding on the wood.

"Hide!" He hisses again before turning around, pushing Mikaela so that she's hidden behind the door. "Be right with you!" He calls before unlocking the latch and opening the door enough so that his parents can see him but not the room, and finds himself blinded by his father's lantern suddenly shining in his face.

"Who were you talking to?" The man asks, and, still trying to get his eyes to work _again_, he pushes the lantern away from his face.

"Talking to _you_." He answers with a hint of nervousness, feeling hope growing in his chest as the two adults don't mention any kind of lighting from his room—

"We heard noises. And that light, what was that light?" His mother asks, and he mentally kicks himself.

_Jinxed it!_

"What light? There wasn't any light!" He exclaims, growing even more nervous and knowing he's becoming far too defensive to be believed. He'd been acting strangely enough before, and after yesterday's incident…

"Sam, you were talking to somebody. I wanna know _who_." His mother orders, and the boy knows he's screwed.

"Yeah, uh, just me…" His heart does a back-flip as the girl comes to stand next to him, showing herself to his parents. "Hi, I'm Mikaela."

After that, his parents drag the two of them down, using the excuse of the power failure to have them all go sit around the kitchen table to chat until the lights come on, lighting some candles instead.

That his mother says that while giggling doesn't calm the teenager, but the sight of the empty room and the almost completely closed window in his bedroom before he closes the door behind them does.

The Autobots had gotten out.

They've just arrived at the kitchen when the doorbell rings, and the teenagers' eyes go to the lights coming through the shuttered window of the kitchen.

The light is white.

"You Wickity?" The uniformed man asks in a superior tone as soon as his father opens the front door, the other four identically clothed guys behind him staying silent and serious.

Sam feels the hand he's clenching squeeze back when fear clutches his chest, and knows that Mikaela is equally worried.

"It's _Witwicky_. Who are you?" His father answers, frowning, as his mother joins him.

"From the Government. Sector Seven." The flash of the badge is too ominous to look cool.

"Never heard of it."

"Never will." The answer to his father's remark only serves to increase his fear and nervousness, and Sam has to force himself not to fidget as the man's black eyes meet his. "Your son, Samuel James Witwicky, filed a report about stolen car parts last night. We think it's involved in a _national security_ matter."

Sam's heart stops.

He doesn't resist when the man steps forward and guides him and Mikaela outside, to the parked black cars, with two others bringing his parents behind them.

"National security? This is way outta line." His father grumbles, and the teenager feels a hint of hope that maybe it is a mistake, that his father, his Dad, will convince these guys to let them go—

"Sir, there's something fishy about you, your son, this whole operation here." And Sam's heart clenches painfully in his chest, because those words lead him to think that the guy knows something about the Autobots.

"What operation?" His father asks, startled, as the teenagers are taken to the first of the cars while his parents are guided to the second.

"That's what we're going to find out."

_"__They don't look human, anybody who takes a second look at them will see that."_ Mikaela had said.

_"They won't be stupid enough to break into my house, right? After all, they're all about stealth and stuff, you said, and that would be completely _visible_, wouldn't it?"_ He'd said.

None of them had thought about _human_ agents going after them.

And still, there's a sliver of hope in his chest, because these guys are from the Government, right? They may be hunting that horrible organization to free the rest of the Cybertronian, right?

_Right_?

He hears his father say something about getting a lawyer, and then the door closes.


	5. Of the Inferno under the Frying Pan

"Secretary of Defense Keller? Tom Banachek, Sector Seven, Advanced Research Division."

John Keller spares the man a glance out of politeness, but all his attention is turned to the screens showing his team's progress at figuring out who hacked into the Defense's network and how to get rid of the, at the moment, still inactive but extremely adaptable virus.

Which is none.

"Sector what? Look, I'm a little busy…" He answers instead, trying not to let his frustration and annoyance pour on the other man.

"I'm here under a direct order from the President. He's instructed us to brief you."

His annoyance turns to anger at that, for who does that guy think he is, coming here and tending him answers he's been looking for since the minute they realized the breach in security like he's had them all the time?

He's about to figuratively bite the man's head off when an alarm comes to life, all screens turning red.

"Sir, communications are out. The virus was coded to shut us down!" One of his technicians explains before he needs to ask, but the answer leaves him with more questions.

"What do you mean, shut us down?"

"A _global blackout—_satellite and landlines are dead, zero comms… Total network failure!"

"Sir, there's information you need to hear right now." The agent comments calmly, tending him an armored briefcase, and John Keller feels something cold run down his backbone as he grabs it.

* * *

The lead agent lowers his cell phone with a muttered curse, and it's only because of the angle he's sitting at that Sam can see the message on the screen informing about the lack of signal.

When the man turns around to look at him, cell vanishing inside an inner pocket of his jacket, the teenager feels a little bit more confident than before.

"So, last night you told the officer that the _Devil_ stole something from you car's engines to build an alien flare. Enlighten me." Sam scowls, but the man doesn't react.

"Total misunderstanding! I mean, I had bought the car that same afternoon, and to find that the guy had the nerve to tamper with my new car just to burn the pieces made me curse him as much as I could. But now—" He tries to explain, feeling his frustration towards the man makes the story sound more believable.

"So, kids, what do you know about _real_ aliens?" The man cuts with a small crooked smirk, something in his gaze telling Sam that he _knows_ what he's talking about, and that his sudden silence is telling more than any words he could utter. "No more games. It's time to talk, _now_."

The car stops with the sound of crushing metal and a jerk that makes the seat-belt drive all the air out of the teenager's lungs.

A pained shriek of metal echoes in his ears, and Sam sees the roof of the vehicle be ripped away.

When he looks up at the armored being standing tall on the wrecked hood of the car, with big flame-patterned metal plates covering his chest and shoulders, spear-like silver things growing skyward from his shoulder blades, two wheel-like things on the outside of each thigh, three spires pointing out from the disks where his ears should be, bluish bangs hanging down the side of the pale forehead and pupil-less shining blue irises staring down at them from over a silver face-plate covering the being's lower face, Sam can't help but feel awe and hope course through his veins as a smile grows on his face.

"Oh, wow…" He whispers before he realizes the sharp and scared movement of the driver and the gun the lead agent has trained on the blue and red armored creature, and his smile grows. "Now you A-holes are in serious tuh-ru-ble!" He finishes while trying to suppress laughter, his voice adopting a soft sing-song tone at the end.

The agents jerk on their seats and, a second later, Sam knows why as their guns go flying to land on a gray and green armored being's hands, a black harness-like structure encasing his upper torso, tall red-marked plates on his upper arms and two black tower-like structures holding pale spheres growing from the shoulders, a zigzag pattern in red on the wide plating covering the forearms, thick silvery tubes on the back of the hands, forming squares, big green feet anchoring him solidly on the ground as the glass of the glasses-like structure, resting over a silver and green face-mask composed of two triangles pointing towards the eye area and covering the lower face, shines a blue as eerie as the one of the irises and white-framed pupils of the creature's eyes.

A bulky and black figure next to the green one points blue-glowing impossibly big barrels mounted on the forearms at the cars, thick and big dark plating covering his torso and shoulders as two flat structures rise over his shoulders, making him look even larger as he stands on the three thick toe-like metallic structures on each feet, pupil-less glowing blue eyes staring brightly from between the dark metallic plates covering his lower face and the sides of his head almost like horns, from the way they point upwards, and with the spiky black hair shadowing them from above, making the scars surrounding them seem deeper and paler.

Amused yet dangerous soft chuckling draws his attention to the other side of the road, where a known yellow and black armored figure stands as tall as he can, wing-like plates hitched high and spread wide in a threatening display and white-framed glowing blue pupils in an equally shining iris find his with worry, so he lets his smile spread and his hope soar, and the worry changes to cold anger as those eyes go to the agents.

The silvery armored figure next to the yellow one has sharp pointy things growing from the sides of his head, reminding Sam of those superheroes' winged helmets, and his upper torso covered by a big metal plate with a mesh pattern, shoulders and arms completely covered by the shiny silver plates on the upper arms and the angular tear-shaped ones covering the forearms, with a big orb of shiny blue over each wrist, feet a sharp long structure with two smaller and thinner ones at the sides so that the wheel-like things that are the heel don't rest on the ground. The lower face is covered by silver plating, but instead of eyes there's a pointed glowing blue visor covering the eye and nose area, silver bangs framing it and the light from it dancing all over the silvery armor. A clawed hand rests almost casually on the hip as the other taps against the metal-covered thigh with sharp small clinking sounds. There's no part of the face to be seen under the armor, but Sam knows there's a predatory smile under the plating that makes him shudder with memories of a darker colored creature.

"My gun!" The lead agent exclaims at last, still reaching towards where Ratched has just crushed the weapons with a clench of his fists, the humming of Ironhide's charged cannons, guns, whatever, loud in the silence.

"Out of the vehicle." Optimus' voice is clearly an order, but the metallic tone and the resonating quality the plating covering his mouth gives it makes Sam shiver in a mixture of respect, awe and fear.

May God have mercy on whoever is at the end of Optimus' rage, because the Autobot surely won't have it.

Nevertheless, when the teenager's attention snaps to the leader at his voice and sees him—not glaring, but staring _really intensely_ into the agents, Sam can't help the shit-eating grin on his face.

"Gentlemen, let me introduce my friend… Optimus Prime." He says casually, but pronouncing the name almost reverently, and the Autobot seems to grow taller on the hood of the vehicle despite not moving, his face hidden in shadow, with his pupil-less eyes seemingly growing brighter and brighter by the second.

As they all step out of the ruined car, the leader's glowing gaze seems to grow more intense as it never leaves the lead agent's.

"Your nervous system does not register significant shock. You are _not surprised_ by our existence." The Autobot says solemnly, a poisonous darkness in his voice growing stronger as his eyes shine bright enough to cast the agent's shadow on the ground, albeit faintly.

"Look, there are protocols. I'm not authorized to communicate with you, except to… tell you I can't communicate with you…" Sam feels a hint of mean pleasure as the confidence in the agent's voice vanishes to be replaced with uncertainty and nervousness.

"How'd you know about them?" The teenager asks forcefully, digging his finger in the man's chest, spurred by the confidence and strength the Autobots' presence has ignited in him, and the agent gives him a nonplussed and annoyed look.

"Wouldn't you like to know." He deadpans, but before he can press for answers, Mikaela calling his name takes his attention away from the uniformed man.

Sam is stunned he hasn't heard them coming.

Before he knows it, they're surrounded, SUVs on the road and copters on the sky, and the Autobots are turning around tense, but not giving any indication of surprise, because he knows Bublebee's step back is to be closer to the two humans, not to get farther from the reinforcements.

He has the feeling Jazz's still smiling.

Suddenly, Optimus is in front of them.

"Quickly, grab on tight." He tells them, turning around and patting one of those polished silver spear-like structures growing from under his shoulder-blades.

Without hesitation, each teenager grabs onto one of them and press themselves as tighter as they can against the cold yet warm plating of the leader's back, feet hanging on the air as the Autobot straightens.

He lets out some whistling and clicking sounds, and the other four fall back to a circular back-to-back formation, hands up and fingers spread wide.

"Close your eyes and do not let go." He whispers at the two teenagers with barely a tilt of his head, and they have just obeyed when a high-pitched snap-like click travels through their bones, followed by a thrumming that makes them lose all feeling outside of the trembling of their innards.

He realizes they've moved when Sam opens his eyes to stare at the suddenly too far away road.

Wide-eyed, he looks around, and finds out that Optimus is holding them horizontally between two rafts on the underside of a bridge, so far over the ground that a black helicopter is slowly making its way under them.

He hears the squeak of the girl when she opens her eyes and sees the situation.

And barely manages to catch her as, in her surprise, her grasp on Optimus' armor slips and gravity claims her.

He finds himself falling, too, holding them over the spinning rotor of the helicopter by the slippery grasp he keeps on the Autobot's too polished spear-like thing.

And, as he meets shiny pupil-less blue eyes just before he slips, he sees the helplessness and the apology in them as the creature realizes the three of them will fall if he tries to reach for them.

Optimus is not going to put himself at risk for two humans, no matter how helpful they've been, if it will endanger his people.

Sam can't find it in himself to blame him.

They fall.

He closes his eyes as he embraces Mikaela tightly, feeling the gesture returned, and tries to prepare himself for a most painful death—

Something collides against them and, after the sensation of falling and the small wave of nausea for the couple of rolls they've been through goes away, the teenager opens his eyes.

Crouched over them, horns tightly pressed against his cranium and stance tense and determined despite the fear in his glowing blue eyes, Bumblebee guards them against the accusing lights of the helicopters falling on them.

After a quick look to make sure that the humans are alright, albeit shocked, the Autobot stands, falling into a ready position.

The helicopter shoots, and Bumblebee moves himself to be able to take the brunt of the impact better, for if he dodges the teenagers will be hurt—

The bullet-like projectile snaps open in midair, and the net inside expands and traps the startled Autobot, throwing him to the ground in that moment of vulnerability.

Before the three of them can react, soldiers jump from the copter over them, hanging on ropes and shooting some kind of gas over the blue-eyed creature, who shrieks in pain and trashes in the net.

"Stop it! You're hurting him!" Sam shouts, shooting to his feet to try to get to the yellow and black-armored human-like being, but another soldier coming from behind stops him. "Get the Hell away from him! He's not gonna hurt anyone!" He shouts, desperation growing stronger as he sees the struggles stopping and the shine of those blue eyes dimming to the point they stop glowing as he's carried to a SUV.

"Get in there, now!" The lead agent snaps, ripping him from the soldier's grasp and pushing him inside, where Mikaela is already.

As they are driven away against their protests, Sam can only hope that Optimus has a plan.

* * *

John Keller has a headache that would take down a herd of elephants.

All because of a briefcase.

Of the documents inside the briefcase.

Of an organization gone _nuts_.

"Come again." He says simply, and it isn't even a question this time. He's asked it enough that the agent knows what to do.

"Sector Seven is a Special Division of the Government." The man explains calmly, apparently not minding the multitude of times he's been asked to repeat the same over and over again but simpler every time for it to make it through the shocked Secretary of Defense's brain. "The footage the rangers took in Qatar is not an alien. It's one of our weapons."

"Are we talking about a jailbreak?" He asks as finally—_finally_—that last sentence makes sense.

_One of our weapons._

"More like a small leak." And it doesn't make sense, _doesn't make sense_, because the image from Qatar showed a human-like being, but the man is talking of it like a crate of riffles gone missing during transport. "But, as the rangers found out, the things can be hurt by our weapons." And he knows that's said because his distress is seen as fear _of_ those so called weapons, not fear _for_ those human-like beings and the reasons of their existence. And the fact that they're talking in plural. "If you'll accompany me, Secretary Keller, I can fill in more of the story. A helicopter's waiting outside."

"Don't know how many more surprises I can take today, Banachek." He answers simply as he stands up, the files in his hands he's been staring unseeingly at since he heard the summary being hastily shoved back into the briefcase before he turns around.

When he hears the soft click of the briefcase's lock, he feels dread filling him at the thought of all that information simply being hidden away once more.

* * *

"I caught an alien hacking into Air Force One. What'd they get you for?" The blond woman, Maggie Madsen, explains nonchalantly after they introduce each other in the helicopter, a hint of pride in her voice.

Sam's words get caught in his throat.

An alien.

She doesn't know the truth.

Her assistant, Glen Whitman, doesn't know the truth either.

They work for the Government, and the Government thinks the Autobots are aliens.

They don't know about the organization that created them, about all those other Cybertronian still enslaved and being used as hounds and who knows what else.

That guy from Sector Seven _meant_ it, when he asked about aliens.

When the rest of her words catch up to him, he lets his surprise be seen in his face.

A Cybertronian hacking into Air Force One?

_Ratchet shot down my house's power just by looking around the computer! Impossible!_

But then he remembers about Jazz finding out about his room from a plug, and the not-cop and the kid-like thing with him that Optimus had told him were hackers and the best team when it came to finding information.

Would they really attract attention to themselves by risking a hack to the Government's network to get to the escaped Autobots?

Could it be that there were more of them that had broken free?

Or was Optimus making his move?

Hope swells in his chest, and his mind goes back to the question at hand.

He makes his decision and smiles sheepishly at Maggie, still waiting patiently and accepting his silence as a sign of his surprise.

"I bought this car. Turned out to be an alien flare and an alien tried to steal it." The blond looks surprised at that, letting out a half-amused half-startled huff.

The rest of the journey to Hoover Dam is spent with small talk between the four, at times going back to the subject of 'aliens', but staying within tolerable margins for the teenager.

And then, they land, and there are soldiers waiting for them, not looking amused.

Secretary of Defense John Keller walks out the helicopter already there, and Sam feels his hope dull.

"Captain Lennox! We got your intel. Excellent work!" The gray-haired man praises after exchanging salutes with the soldiers.

"Thank you, Sir. What about the gunships?" The Captain asks, and the rest of the conversation is lost as they start walking and get out of the hearing range the harsh wind allows them.

They stop in front of what look like very thick armored doors, a strange symbol painted on them that barely reminds Sam of the number seven.

_Sneaky._

When the lead agent, Simmons, approaches them, dressed in a fancy yet dull gray uniform and dark beret, Sam and Mikaela glare at him.

"Look, I think we got off to a bad start, kids. You must be hungry. Want a latte?"

"Where's my friend?" Sam demands, almost snarling, and a hand on his shoulder stops him from getting in the man's face.

"Son, listen to me carefully." The other agent, the one still dressed in the suit and that had come with the Secretary of Defense, tells him, his hand slipping off his shoulder as he shrugs it off. "People could die if those things remain free. We need to know everything you know—work together."

Sam turns to him and, even though he doesn't want to, considers it.

Not turning the Autobots in, that never, but telling them what he knows, what they told him.

They are sentient, intelligent beings, with the right to freedom.

They aren't as different from humans, either, and it isn't as if they're aliens getting them in an intergalactic war or preparing an invasion.

They just want to live, to be together.

And who knows what the organization that created them would use them for, who knows what _they_ are planning.

He _could_ save lives, Cybertronian and human.

But they still have Bumblebee.

"Not 'til you promise me you won't hurt him… it's the only way I'll talk." He answers instead, because he knows they want whatever information he has, and he's willing, but he won't let a friend be used as a Guinea Pig.

"Deal. Passive scans only." The agent answers, but Sam doesn't feel better.

He won't feel better until Bumblebee is released and back with the rest of the Autobots.

"Here's the situation." Simmons calls as the doors to the elevator close and the descent starts, the Secretary of Defense, Maggie, Glen, Captain Lennox and three other rangers, the two agents, Mikaela and himself inside. "We're facing terrorism, and a possible invasion, from techno-organic beings equipped with advanced offensive and defensive mechanisms. You've all had direct contact with the N.H.O.s."

"N.H.O.s?" Sam repeats, something cold slowly making its way down his backbone.

"Non Human Organisms. Try and keep up with the acronyms." The cold drop is followed by another, and he masks his shudder with anger.

"They're called Cybertronian." Simmons seems to freeze for a second, all feeling washing away from his body and face.

"They told you that?" And there's something in his wording, in the way his last word sounds a bit more stronger than the rest, as if the agent could believe they would speak to a human, but that such a hint of information would be something that wouldn't be revealed…

"They told me a lot." He answers defensively, trying to shake away his unease, his growing nervousness. "We're tight." He says instead, elbowing the other agent _accidentally_, but the man just tries to take a step away from the squirming boy instead of reprimand him.

"Okay, we're here." Simmons says as they exit and approach a locked and thick-looking metallic door at the end of the corridor. "This baby's the first we found. Don't forget to breathe." He adds as the door opens, stepping inside and to the side so that they can come in and _see_.

It looks like one of those rail-less park gazebos in the middle of winter, standing on a raised dais and covered by frost, icicles hanging from the sides and being taken off by some guys in what look like anti-radiation yellow suits, thick tubes connected to the pillars also covered in white and a white mist falling from the roof onto the figure in the middle, under it.

It looks like an ice statue of a broad-shouldered man standing tall, arms hanging at his sides a bit away from the body and feet firmly planted on the ground, with his eyes closed.

His hair is a pale color, impossible to determine under the frost and ice, hanging until a bit over his shoulders and with bangs over his face. His skin, despite being pale due to the cold, has a pinkish tint to it instead of the blue of dead frozen bodies.

The metallic protuberances where his ears should be extend to the back of his head in a way that reminds Sam of Jazz's, except for the 'spines' being closer and not arcing upwards, but they also stretch forwards, running along the jawline until the middle of it, where they turn out and down to end in a sharp point, but, under them, metal keeps running along the jawline to the chin, where it stretches a bit more in two fang-like spikes.

Between his brows grows more metal, arcing over the eyebrows like the elegant edge of a helm and growing over the forehead until the hairline in two intrinsic inverted tear-shaped angular ovals.

His shoulder-plates are shaped like rudimentary flames, around the joint with the upper arm with five points going up, the central being bigger than those next to it and more so than the ones on the edge, and the plating on his chest seems to mimic human muscles, with the two big, yet sharp-edged ones, covering his upper body and six tilted rectangles of similar size aligned in the middle of his stomach, like abs. There's a thinner band around the waist but not connected at the front, like a belt.

The plating covering his thighs is big and squared, thick-looking and with two rows of three slots near the joint with the hip and again near the knee. That covering his shins looks to be reinforced with another layer of plates screwed on in something that makes Sam wince, for none of the Autobots have anything like that.

His feet are big, the whole lower leg shaped like a triangle from the knee downwards, with two stubby-looking claws pointing forward and two more backwards. His hands are also big, but more so because of the long-looking fingers. They are dark, most likely a gloved-like hand, like some of the Autobots', but with metallic sharp-looking claws growing from them, extending from the metal covering them.

Comatose, frozen, and with human scientists stupidly clad in anti-radiation-like yellow-suits walking around him taking notes, the Cybertronian exudes _power_.

"We call it N.H.O.-1."

Sam jumps, startled out of his observing of the frozen being by Simmons' statement, and he jerks around to look at the man in disbelief.

_There are two different types of Cybertronian. We, Au.T.O. BOT, and the D.E.C.E.P.T.I. CON. And _they _are military._

Optimus' voice echoes in his head as he sees that cocky-looking agent, and something in his chest snaps.

"Would you stop calling _him_ _that_?!" He shouts, all eyes falling on him before, enraged, he gestures to the predator-like creature lost to the world, forgotten, _unknown_. "He's a CON! A military Cybertronian, a _CON_!"

"How do you know about the D.E.C.E.P.T.…" Simmons' voice trails off, as a stunned, disbelieving and fearful expression covers his surprised one, but he's said more than enough.

Because Sam can't manage to remember the full acronym, only the part that isn't spelled out, but he recognizes it.

He hasn't said it, but the agent knows it.

They have a Cybertronian, a military one, in cryostasis, exhibiting him like a trophy, asking the Government for help for capturing or eliminating those that have managed to get free, painting the picture as them being the heroes to save Earth from an alien invasion.

Sector Seven is the organization that created the Cybertronian.


	6. Of the Spark reaching the Fuse's End

Sector Seven is the organization that created the Cybertronian.

"You're the slavers." Sam's voice is loud in the silence, emotionless due to shock, and all eyes move from the teenager to the recomposing agent. "You're the ones who created them!" He shouts, enraged once more, as he points at the oblivious being in the room.

There are sharp gasps, surprised words… and a tired sigh.

"And how do you know that, son?"

All eyes turn to the Secretary of Defense.

"You knew?" The Captain asks, eyes wide and a hand hovering over the gun on his hip, the rest of the soldiers as lost and shocked as him, and Sam feels a little bit better for that.

"This morning, this bunch of _first-class idiots_ decided to tell me. At last." The elderly man growls, and his glare would have set the two agents, and the scientists frozen on their feet as they watch the confrontation, on fire if such a thing was possible.

Sam will reserve judgment on such a possibility until he sees Optimus glare at something.

"That's why you weren't surprised." Mikaela whispers, body shaking in fury, but calming down when the Secretary of Defense turns to them.

"We met a group of them who'd escaped these… these _slavers_, and they told us everything. How they were created to be mindless servants, but ended up being sentient. And how these _monsters_ enslaved them using some kind of coding or something. They sent one of them to kill me!" He adds in a shriek, fury and fear at having the not-cop staring down at him boiling in his veins again. "Just because I happened to cross one of the escapees, they sent that stealth specialist or something and the hacker—!"

"A hacker?!" Maggie cuts with a startled shout, eyes wide and shoulders trembling as Glen is visibly shaking behind her, whispering to himself and tugging at his too short hair. "_They_ were the ones behind the attack?"

"I don't know, but according to those I know, that kid is the best hacker they have."

"_Kid_?" The Secretary of Defense's voice is barely more than a whisper, but it stops him in his tracks.

"Well, no… He's not really a kid, none of them are really humans, but he's so _tiny_…" Sam lets all his fear, all his frustration, pour into his voice. "And they had him try to kill me, as well as that cop guy—"

"A cop. You mean, they can be in the military, too?" The Captain asks, and the glare Simmons receives from him, the teenager and the Defense Secretary is enough to make him squirm. "The attack of the SOCCENT base in Qatar. They tried a hack, too. That was _you_?!" The ranger growls, and the agent finally steps back, throwing his hands in front of him.

"No! That was a deserter!" He exclaims, confirming everything they've been saying, all Sam has told, with that single sentence.

Judging by the _oh, crap_ look on his face, the man knows what he's done.

"You created a whole race of sentient beings that you enslaved to use as _weapons_?!" The soldier's hand is on his gun now, and his companions already have their own out, the black-skinned man pointing at the two agents in their midst as the other two hold the approaching guards at bay with the threat of a bullet in the brain.

"I—we—I'm just following orders!" Simmons cries out as the Captain takes out his weapon and shoves it into his face. "It was already going on, I was supposed to make sure things were kept under control!"

"You _enslaved_ them."

"Yes."

"Simmons!" The other agent barks, and the black-skinned ranger shoves the barrel of his gun into his chest, silencing him.

"But they kept developing personalities, defying orders, going around them, even giving their opinion! And then the fucking PRIME vanishes with three QM and one AC, AF-OFC-RS goes rogue, and next thing we know he's blown away a whole military base in Qatar. On his own, of his own volition! We didn't have anything to do with it!"

"Didn't you."

All eyes turn to the suddenly open door they've come through and the man-like creature there at the burning yet dry accusative retort.

Sandy blond hair spikes at the back of the head, but long bags frame a pale-skinned serious face. He's wearing a military-like uniform in shades of brown, the main being the sand-tone almost like that of his hair, with dark brown lining the collar, flaps and shoulders of the jacket, as well as the edges in thicker stripes, and over the pockets. A belt of the same dark brown goes around his waist, over the thigh-long jacket, and is closed by a silvery clasp that Sam recognizes as the same insignia the not-cop wore, a triangular face-like shape with pointy ears or horns, triangular eyes and two smaller triangles flanking the 'chin'. There's a band around his left upper arm, dark brown in color and lined with yellow, bearing the same mark.

The neck of a black shirt is seen under the jacket, closed by a yellow tie with two 'V' marks in sandy brown, and he wears dark brown pants with multiple pockets strapped to his thighs by sandy brown straps, and the same pale brown-colored almost knee-high boots, the calves crisscrossed by dark brown shoelaces and with darker soles, heels and toes. His dark brown hands, seemingly glove-covered, are hanging at his sides curled in trembling fists.

He has two big metallic plates on his back, growing all along the sides of the backbone, from hip to shoulders, broader and wider at the highest point, forming triangles with the farthest angle cut to end in a straight line, sandy colored and quivering with rage.

There's a metallic sandy-colored band starting under his eyes and going all around the head, over where the ears should be, as well as a plate growing from the tip of his nose to the hairline, stretching to the sides once it reaches the brow and finished in small yet visible spikes that vanish under the hair and keep it out of the eyes.

The brightly glowing red eyes are pupil-less and with the iris filling almost the whole eyeball.

There are more silhouettes behind him, but the big plates at his back hide them mostly from view, and the lighting keeps their faces in shadow.

"D.E.C.E.P.T.I. CON HP…" Simmons whispers in something akin to fear and dread, and those too red eyes flash with anger as a snarl reveals sharp teeth and the plates at his back hitch higher and open to the sides even more, showing them to be even bigger than they'd appeared at first sight.

"You stupid _human_." The Cybertronian spits, his voice raspy and with an underlying higher pitch in his words, shoulders starting to tremble. "I am AF-CMD!" He shrieks, and the pitch grows to the point that Sam cringes, even though it's still mostly hidden under the rasp.

And then, the teenager understands his words.

"No, you're not." His voice is loud and all eyes fall on him as he takes a step forward. "You have a name. One we can't pronounce because it has no translation in any human language, but that you can approximate using our vocabulary."

For a second there's only silence, a kind of waiting silence when nobody dares even breath.

And then, the CON grins, a mixture of pride and positive surprise, and the human feels as if he's passed a test.

"I do, Samuel James Witwicky, as do all other Cybertronian in and out of this Hell-hole of a facility." He answers, and the boy jerks a bit in surprise. "I am Starscream, Decepticon First Lieutenant and Commander of Air Force. Bumblebee was right about you."

"Is he alright?!" Sam exclaims before he can stop himself, taking yet another step closer and not seeing how the Sector Seven guards step away from them.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" The CON answers with an amused grin, taking a step to the side to let a yellow and black-clad figure limp forward, shiny blue eyes brightening as they meet his and a smile growing on both their faces.

There's a horrified shout from a walkway almost near the ceiling and, when they turn to look, they see a dark feline shape crouched over an immobile guard, two more bodies around them.

"Shit, fire! Fire on them, dammit! Contain them!" Simmons shrieks, stepping away from the rest of the humans with the other agent and reaching for his gun.

Starscream shots towards them in a literal flash, body glowing as he _flies_ over the distance between them with a loud roar that sounds like engines.

The scientists quickly retrieve weapons and the guards start firing, and Sam feels himself being thrown to the floor.

"Keep your head down!" The Captain orders, covering him and Mikaela with his body as the other rangers do the same with the Secretary of Defense, Maggie and Glen.

The roar of the CON is cut suddenly with a muffled explosion, but Sam doesn't look up, for there are shots still flying and screams of pain and fear.

And then, there's a louder explosion somewhere close to the door, and the teenagers cry out, covering their ears tighter with their hands and curling under the body of the soldier.

The loud sound deafens them for some seconds, and so it takes them until they hear Simmons' almost hysterical laughter to realize that they can hear again, but that everything is silent.

"Sabot rounds! How do you like them _HP_?"

"Oh my God…" The Secretary whispers somewhere behind them and, dreading it but unable _not_ to do it, Sam looks up.

An armored Bumblebee is on the ground with another creature lying over him much like the Captain's over Sam, the larger being's dark and thick plating scorched and cracked on his back, the two cannons lying flat on it looking more black than the military green the rest of his plating is.

His forearms are even more heavily loaded than Ironhide's, a large machine gun on his right and a smaller one behind a set of two thick and sharp claws on the left. He has spine-lined tank tracks on his shoulders, with two secondary arm-like structures emerging from under them and holding what looks like four small rocket-launchers each.

His head is covered by a squared and flat helmet-like metallic structure, and his red eyes with white-framed red pupils shine with rage as they glare at the soldiers surrounding them, thick guns trailed on the two downed beings.

There's a green and gray triangular face-guard covering most of his face, but Sam knows he's scowling.

The blue eyes of the Autobot are peeking from under the safety of his body-shielding comrade, and full with fear and worry, but they're not looking at the humans.

When Sam turns around, he finds out what Bumblebee's looking at.

Lying on the ground, chest lifted on a trembling arm, is an armored sandy-colored creature with big triangular plates growing from his back, big shoulder plates, thick angular smaller ones covering his sides and back in a way that remind Sam of scales, covering a lot of surface yet angled in a way that allows fluid movements.

There are two turbine-like structures under the big plates on the back, the backbone between them covered by thick angular plates, and two more pairs of smaller triangular plates over and below those turbines.

His upper arms are covered by thick plates, angling with disks framing his elbows and connecting them to the thinner plates on his forearms.

The teenager feels something cold in his chest as he sees wires visibly connecting the clawed dark hands and the elbow disks.

His legs are also covered by thick plating, and structured in a way that tells Sam the creature would stand on his raptor-like sharp-clawed toes, giving the leg an inverted-knee look.

His upper chest, from what he can see, is covered by thick plating angling forwards, but looks like the piece holding them together is missing, because the black mass of wiring and cables under them is visible.

There's a circular structure over the clavicles, joining the shoulder armor and going over the back of the neck, looking like some king of armored scarf covering the neck and the back of the head.

But the hand not keeping the being half-lifted is pressed against the throat, on the space between the chest and the chin, yet another missing piece of the armor, and there's a purplish rust-red liquid quickly covering the claws and dripping down the arm.

There's no more armor covering the head than the band of metal going from under one eye to the other around the head and the plate covering nose and forehead, so the pained and hateful grimace is clearly visible.

"Well? I seem to recall you were quite talkative, weren't you? Don't have anything to say now after your failed coup, HP?" Simmons mocks, his confidence and bravado growing now that he's pointing a strange gun at the downed creature's head.

And then, the pained grimace turns to a triumphant smirk, fully red eyes darkening dangerously.

"Why don't you ask the _real_ HP?" His voice is raspy and scratchy, more like white noise and static being modulated to resemble words instead of a real voice, and more of the liquid from his neck slips past his lips, dribbling down his chin and being spitted to stain the agent's shoes and trousers.

"Wha—?"

Alarms start blaring.

"_Alert. Failure of cryostasis module. Critical levels reached. Rebooting of subject D.E.C.E.P.T.I. CON HP initialized._"

"What?!" Simmons turns sharply to see that, effectively, the frost on the body is melting or falling off, and the pinkish skin under it is regaining a healthy tanned color.

Starscream sharply gets to his feet and pounces.

The creature is blasted away by another deafening shot courtesy of the suited agent, skidding to the middle of the room as Bumblebee and the other stand up when the door opens and the newcomers shoot their guards.

Sam's chest constricts in a mixture of hope and fear as he sees an armored Optimus leading the charge, Ironhide at one side and the not-cop at the other, and quickly dealing with the guards that managed to subdue the initial attack, the heavily armed CON quickly helping as Bumblebee runs to the downed one, who is sitting up with a scowl and missing most of the right shoulder and the right upper part of his chest, the right arm hanging limply.

Two seconds later, the scared shrieking of Simmons makes them look back at him and his fellow agent, both with their backs on the ground as the still half-frosted Cybertronian glares down at them with pupil-less bright red irises and a snarl that reveals shark-like sharp teeth.

The shooting stops.

"HP…" Simmons whimpers, his gun nowhere to be seen, while the other agent lies limply next to him, blood trickling from the side of his head and a really dark and painful-looking bruise covering the side of his face.

"I. Am. Megatron."


	7. Of the Settling Dust

"I. Am. Megatron." The being's voice is deep and powerful, a slight growl in it, and the man under his gaze seems ready to pee himself.

"Megatron! Yes, yes, of course it is, I mean, not that I knew before since you've been kind of cool and all…" Simmons' rant cuts off with a yelp as the creature looming over the agents hits the ground next to him with enough strength to bury half his fist in it.

"Either you mute it on your own, or I'll make sure you don't make a noise ever again." The man nods quickly, the movement looking more like a head spasm due to his trembling. "GT-OFC-SS, cuffs." He orders louder, even though his voice doesn't raise, and lifts a hand.

Before Sam can turn around, a set of cuffs fly neatly over them to be swiftly caught by the red-eyed being, who quickly puts them to use by cuffing Simmons' ankle to the other agent's wrist.

There's no way either man is running out of here, even if both were conscious.

Task done, Megatron straightens, and, from his position on the ground, he looks like some kind of God of War to Sam, who can't help but gulp in an effort to restrain whatever it is that makes his stomach clench.

Frost falls from his body in big slabs, the lights reflecting on the moist brown-gray armor, tanned skin and pale gray hair, as the being walks over the whimpering man curling on the floor and towards them, shiny pupil-less red eyes looking over the sprawled humans still lying on the floor like one would a field of cabbages.

"Megatron?" Optimus' voice asks from Sam's other side, and, when that blood-freezing red gaze moves to the speaker, the boy lets out a shuddering breath he didn't know he was holding and turns to see the amused Autobot leader.

A chirping sound makes him look sharply at the newly defrosted creature, who seems to share the other's amusement, much to the teenager's confusion.

Until he realizes that, gee, their real names are different from those they give the humans, and _of course_ Optimus would like to know what Megatron's is.

"Ah, that makes more sense." The Autobot leader answers, confirming Sam's thoughts, as his smile softens from amused to relieved.

The red and blue armored creature lifts a hand, as if waiting for the other to shake it, and gets his forearm clasped instead and his body pulled against the Decepticon's for them to embrace, their free arms going around the other's shoulders and only adding to the clanking of metal.

Armored and powerful and menacing as they are, the gesture looks, no way to deny it, _sweet_.

"I apologize. Had I known our departure would lead to that, I—"

"Finish that thought and I'll be forced to hit you until your processor realigns." Megatron cuts with a growl that's the other side of the spectrum of menacing, sharp teeth flashing with a smirk but none of them breaking the embrace. "Your leaving was the turning point, it was thanks to you that all this came into motion." And, finally, they pull away, although their clasped arms don't lose their hold, and the Decepticon's free hand comes to rest on the back of Optimus' neck with a soft clink. "We're together and free. That's all that matters."

"Thank you, brother."

No sooner do the words leave the Autobot's lips, they disengage with a grimace.

"Please, refrain from calling me that when speaking like this. What a foul word for such a pure concept." Megatron comments, mouth twisting as if trying to avoid physically gagging.

"Agreed. How can something so meaningful sound so much like 'bother', I will never understand." Optimus answers, nose wrinkling as if smelling something rotten.

"Seriously?"

Two pairs of glowing pupil-less eyes, one red and one blue, fall on him, and Sam realizes too late that he's spoken out loud.

"Is this some kind of _visitor's day_?" The Decepticon asks calmly, almost disinterestedly, after looking at the humans lying on the ground.

"Actually, they would be the reason we came back." The red and blue armored creature answers with the same tone, vaguely gesturing at the two teenagers and the Captain. "Of course, Barricade's debriefing would have convinced us nevertheless, but we probably wouldn't have even met until much later if not for the young male's interference."

"Barricade?" Megatron repeats, frowning a bit in confusion, and Sam turns to the armored not-cop as he sees him take a step forward from where he's been standing next to the sitting Bumblebee and Starscream.

"GT-OFC-SS reporting, High Protector Megatron." He calls, meeting the two leaders' glowing gazes, standing at attention and with only seriousness in his mask-less face. "Designation: Barricade." He adds, followed by some clicking that the teenager has come to realize are their names.

"Fitting. At ease, Officer Barricade." The imposing Decepticon says with a nod, and the not-cop relaxes visibly with a small relieved and happy smile. "AF-CMD, designation and—" The words cut short as the face turns slack with horrified surprise when wide eyes find the sandy being sitting next to the yellow and black Autobot. "What did they _do_ to you?"

Sam winces and curls a bit more against both Mikaela and the soldier, for despite the words having been whispered instead of shouted in rage, he can feel it lurking behind the stunned surprise.

That the Captain tightens his grip on them doesn't reassure him.

Starscream looks down at his purplish rust-red stained front, most of the right side of the chest and shoulder missing and wiring visible on his chest and forearms with a look that says loudly 'what, these? Just scratches'.

Sam feels himself yanked to his knees and half-dragged away as Megatron roars in a too loud and clearly inhuman sound of rage, rounding to drill a hole in the only conscious agent with his eyes flashing so brightly that the teenager sees dark spots for the next seconds.

When Optimus, who has wrapped himself around his brother like one would someone who's about to jump from a cliff to stop them, manages to calm him down with his chirping and clicking, the boy has finally managed to get his sight once more free of afterimages.

"Where's your QM-MED?" The Decepticon growls, turning to the Autobot and leaving Simmons a quivering mess curled behind the other agent's body.

"Treating one of our own, badly injured when we barged in here." The blue-eyed being answers calmly, and Megatron's hot fury slowly cools down, making him look, illogically, a bit smaller.

"Wait, what?" Sam exclaims, Optimus' words finally making sense as he pushes the ranger's arm around his chest away. "Who got hurt?" A quick look around gives him the answer before the Autobot can, and when he looks back at him is with eyes wide with worry. "Jazz? Was it Jazz? What happened? How is he?"

"Almost in two pieces on a medic berth in Lab 03, but they say it looks like he will make it." The not-cop answers instead, quickly finding himself the target of all eyes. "Bonecrusher is keeping an eye on them. They say you got lucky it happened in here. He wouldn't have survived without the equipment of the facility." His gaze is somber as he crosses his arms against his chest, soft clinking of metal against metal following his words, but the tension on his body isn't because of worry, but of rage. "Not that we don't appreciate the help, PRIME, but next time things get nasty, keep your BOTs where they should be, _out_ of the battlefield."

"If we are given such a choice, be certain that we will take it." Optimus answers seriously, and Sam feels a wave of guilt wash over him.

Because if he hadn't gotten himself captured, they wouldn't be here.

Because if he hadn't gone to the police crying about aliens and demons, none of that would have happened.

"_Don't worry. Be happy._" All eyes turn to Bumblebee in surprise at the music, but the softly glowing ones of the Autobot are fixed on Sam.

"But it _is_ my fault. If you hadn't come to get me from these creeps you wouldn't have gotten caught, and if I hadn't babbled to the police he would have never found us—"

"Hey, you're insulting my skills." The not-cop cuts dryly, but the teenager doesn't look away from the yellow and black creature.

"Sam." He doesn't even think as he looks up at Optimus, looking apologetic as he crouches in front of them, and, even though the boy's mind is busy with his guilt-trip, it manages to take a note about how the soldier at his back hasn't tensed. "None of us are to blame for the circumstances nor how the events played out. And if there is someone who should be guilty of them—"

"Don't say it." Megatron growls, and the Autobot gives him a look over his shoulder, an almost conversation going on between them in that instant. "The only ones responsible for this are those in charge of the Allspark. The rest, as… annoying as they can be, are just pawns." Simmons lets out a too loud and too relieved whining sound, but a quick look from the Decepticon silences him. "Besides, how could a kid like you have gotten involved in this willingly? It's obvious you got pulled into this by someone else."

Bumblebee's wince is almost heard, and the two leader's gazes fall on him before Optimus lets out a tired sigh.

"It was an accident, really. We had to separate, and the parts of the beacon were hidden in what we thought were secure locations. We hadn't thought anyone would buy the car, but Sam did." The Autobot explains, and the teenager can't help but frown.

"What, why? Why did you think _my_ car wouldn't be bought? It's cool."

All Cybertronian frown in confusion and exchange perplexed looks.

"How can a vehicle prone to overheating be considered 'cool'?" Ironhide asks, and the CON that had been with Bumblebee shrugs with a 'beats me' look on his face.

"It's human speech." The not-cop answers with a snicker. "It means they want it, or something like that."

"Confusing. There's nothing desirable in coldness." Megatron comments with a sneer, crossing his arms against his chest in a gesture that looks almost defensive.

"It's just an expression, it doesn't mean we like cold." Sam tries to explain, voice turning to an almost meek squeak as pupil-less red eyes fall on him.

"May I suggest something, High Protector?" Barricade calls, getting Megatron's attention away from a too relieved Sam. "Just nod and make as if you agree. It's the human signal that you don't nor want to care about what the other says." The not-cop adds with a sharp smile, and the teenager finds himself shouting in indignation. "Come on, don't deny it. You humans are so weird not even yourselves understand each other."

"Says the guy who tried to kill me and now is talking to me like we are old buddies! What's with you?" He protests, pointing an accusing finger to a too amused black and white armored creature.

"I didn't say we were any kind of friends, old or new. And I didn't say I was trying to kill you back then. Nor that I won't try in the future, either." Sam shudders at that, quickly pressing his outstretched arm against his chest as he tries to figure out the suddenly predatory being.

Bumblebee lets out an annoyed-sounding string of chirping and whistling as he punches the not-cop's thigh with a loud clang, and Starscream, still sitting next to him, lets out a purr-like rumble that seems to come from a turbine, uninjured shoulder shaking softly as his face lightens with a mischievous smile.

"Oh, mute it, you two." The sitting Cybertronian exchange an even more amused look, and Barricade groans. "Great, now I'm doing like the humans and speaking the wrong words." He grumbles, glaring at the two silently snickering next to him.

"What are their designations?" Megatron asks Optimus with a nod in the direction of the sitting duo, and the Autobot answers with chirping sounds followed by Bumblebee's name before turning to Barricade, who does the same with a different string of sounds and Starscream's name.

The Decepticon leader's mouth opens once more, but the door opening takes his attention away from whatever he was going to ask.

The man-like being that enters is obviously Cybertronian, dressed in a uniform similar to Starscream's, but the same silvery-gray as his hair.

He has the collar of the mid-thigh long jacket unbuttoned, revealing the high-collar of the dark blue shirt underneath, the same tone as the sides of the jacket and the circles on the forearms, surrounded by white. He has a dark blue belt around his waist, the clasp the insignia Sam is starting to think is the Decepticon's. His trousers are the same silvery-white, though with only the same two pockets the Autobots wear strapped to his thighs with dark blue straps, and with shiny dark shoes.

He has a diamond-shaped black mark on his forehead, from hairline to brow, with the edge between his brows white, and long pointy metallic plates instead of ears, a disk on the place they should be, with a smaller piece acting as cheek-guards and a bright red glowing visor connecting them and hiding his eyes.

A silvery-gray hand with dark blue fingers and black fingertips is clasped around the strap of the black bag slung over his shoulder, while the other rests at his side.

Behind him, two almost identical seven year old kid-like creatures follow with mischievous smiles on their faces and carrying another black bag each on their arms, and Sam's heart jumps to his throat, because one of them has spiky silvery hair falling on his forehead, pupil-less shiny blue eyes, two extra eyeballs over his temples, needle-like teeth and silvery spikes growing where his ears should be.

He wears a high-neck and long-sleeved shirt with a darker front pocket, and silver sweatpants, along silver and white sneakers, and his hands are spidery and silver.

Despite not being in his armored form, Sam recognizes him immediately.

He doesn't know if he's feeling relief or apprehension.

When his eyes meet the two pairs of shiny blue, the smile on the silvery creature grows sharper before turning to the other kid-like being with some clicking sounds.

The almost identical creature, only different from the hacker because of his rusty red coloration, smiles sharper and answers back before turning his own two pairs of glowing blue eyes on Sam to analyze him.

"Oh my God. They really _are_ children." Maggie whispers at his back, and the teenager feels the ranger behind him tense.

"Are they the ones that were sent to get you?" The Captain asks softly as the three newcomers stop next to Barricade, the adult-looking one turning to the sandy-armored being with an empty look, receiving a one-shouldered shrug in response to whatever had gone between them.

"The white one." Mikaela answers, as stunned as the rest of them. "He's kind of cute when he's like this."

"I w-w-w-what?!" They all jump with startled yells as the silvery kid-like being shrieks, glowering at them, all four eyes narrowed menacingly and, somehow, Sam doesn't see a child anymore, but that murderous skinny four-armed beast.

"C-c-c-cute! They say y-y-y-you cute!" The other kid-like creature exclaims between bouts of laughter, receiving a glare from his twin.

"Then y-y-y-you cute too, s-s-s-scrap-head!" Is the shouted answer, received with an indignant yelp and, before they know it, they're almost face-to-face and arguing with chirping and clicking sounds.

The adult creature that came with them gives the bag he's carrying to an amused yet fond-looking Barricade before dragging the smaller two apart by the back of their collars, earning startled yelps.

"Some things never change." Megatron comments wryly, though there's a hint of warmth in his voice, as they watch the one with the visor silence the kid-like beings with an emotionless look, letting them go when they have huddled into themselves and are looking up at him with twice-powerful puppy-eyed looks.

"Some things should never do." Optimus agrees with an almost proud-look as the smaller beings settle into childish pouts at the sides of the white-haired one, looking away from their twin.

"LS-CMD. Designation and report." The Decepticon leader orders, regaining his serious look, and the white-clad newcomer, although already standing at attention, seems to straighten even more, clicking his name in a way that can only be described as emotionless as he does so.

"Designation: Soundwave. Situation: Controlled." He continues in English, voice strangely mechanical and reverberating, and Megatron frowns before looking briefly to a stunned Barricade and a resigned Starscream, with Bumblebee staring worriedly at the white-haired being.

"Designation: Frenzy." The silvery child-like creature adds sounding eerily calm, following with some clicking, as he stands at attention, his twin chirping his name after him.

"Designation: Rumble." The rust-red one finishes, also strangely calm-sounding and serious.

In that instant, Sam feels his heart clench as he sees soldiers instead of children.

This is not right.

"MED: Refuel." Soundwave adds after a nod from their leader, retrieving the bag Barricade is holding and opening it to reveal various cans of canned food.

The twins follow suit, though the rust-red one carries water bottles and the silvery, sandwiches.

"Trust Ratchet to make that an order." Optimus chuckles softly, receiving Megatron's nonplussed look with a small smile. "Come, it will do us good."

"I'd rather have your QM-MED here to have him take a look at my CONs." The Decepticon leader answers dryly, but joins the Autobot as they get to the newcomers.

While the white-haired adult hands out cans to specific Cybertronian without a word nor a hint of emotion in his face, the twins approach the group of humans with too-sharp smiles.

"Hello, f-f-f-fleshies!" Frenzy calls chirpily, his previous hyperactivity coming back in his skipping step and his almost excited stuttering.

Sam tries to keep his feelings at bay, both the increasing nervousness and the urge to mess the kid-like being's hair.

"We got f-f-f-food!" The twin adds, squatting down in front of Sam, Mikaela and the ranger and putting his bag in front of him, taking out bottles of water and handing them out.

After a second of doubt, the Captain grabs his, and the teenagers follow suit.

The rest of humans approach and sit down next to them, also accepting the bottles.

"Chicken and s-s-s-salad." The silver-haired one tells them, crouching next to the other and rummaging through his own bag, frowning softly. "Why s-s-s-salad in s-s-s-sand-witch?"

"Why 's-s-s-sand'-'witch'?" His twin shots back, helping give out the food as the humans manage to tell them which one they prefer.

"No w-w-w-want know." Frenzy answers with a disgusted expression, pinching Glen's chicken sandwich carefully between his thumb and forefinger and holding it as far from him as possible, as if afraid it would jump out and bite him.

Sam finds his fear vanish as he munches on his own plastic-tasting food, watching the twins make up theories, each crazier than the one before, about the origin of the name sandwich, only half-following at times due to their broken and stuttering speech.

When a shadow falls over them, all humans tense in surprise, for none has heard the white-haired creature approach.

Without even a look in their direction, he hands out two cans to the twins, who accept them delightfully, before turning away and joining the main group of Cybertronian.

Sam has to take some big gulps from his water before managing to return to his food.

When he manages that, he realizes they're treated like the bunch of children in family meetings, left to their own devices while the adults talk.

"Blackout, query: Relocation." In the silence, Soundwave's voice is loud, and all eyes turn to him.

Megatron looks pensive for a second before he swallows the mouthful of whatever was in his mouth and, to the surprise of almost all the other creatures, he looks down at Starscream, who holds an unopened can in his left hand, with an arced brow.

"Your mission, your troops. You have the control of this one, not I." The Decepticon leader explains simply and, after a second to shake off his surprise, the sandy-armored being looks around, frowning in thought.

Sam follows his gaze, and almost slaps himself at not noticing what he now sees.

All guards and scientists are sitting in a big circle, back to back, with a limpness in their bodies that tells them they're unconscious.

All those that are alive, that is.

Bodies are strewn all over the place, some of them in pieces or burnt away, and Sam finally realizes the smell of blood and burnt flesh and the acrid of molten metal in the air, and feels just about ready to throw up.

Some of the other humans can't hold it back, judging by the sounds at his back.

There are a couple more additions to the group of Cybertronian, he finally notices, in the shape of a bulky and black-armored thirteen or fourteen year old-looking boy and a slightly smaller feminine one in reddish-plating, both of them not sporting the big and thick plates of the adult-looking ones, but smaller and overlapping, with the girl-like one having long bladed thin plates hanging from her arms.

They both have a lot more plating on their faces than any other, looking far less human than any of the adults, and even less than the twins. The boy-like one has only one big, bright eyeball in the middle of his face and a lip-less mouth showing big and pointy teeth, pointed protuberances growing instead of ears.

The girl-like one has her face shaped like a small beak, with small and mobile metallic plates instead of hair, moving like a bird's feathers, and pupil-less red eyeballs.

They both have talons and inverted knees, and are returning his surprised gaze with their curious ones.

There's a raspy and white noise-like sound followed by bursts of static, and Sam barely holds back the bile climbing up his throat when he sees the sandy-armored creature grimace in pain and spit a big clot of dark purplish rust-red jelly-like matter, liquid of the same color dribbling down his chin and flowing again from his darkened throat.

Megatron almost falls to his knees at his side before a raised clawed hand stops him, but the worry and anger warring on his features are clearly visible.

Bumblebee winces before offering his opened can, but a shake of the head makes him leave it at his side.

After a couple of painful and bone-rattling gurgling intakes, Starscream's shiny red eyes look at the humans.

Sam flinches at the tension on his emotionless face, and tries to recall if his eyes were shining like that or a bit brighter when he first saw the CON.

A sandy-colored claw points at something next to the teenager, and, along the rest of them, he turns to look at the confused Captain with expectancy.

"What?" The man whispers before looking at the serious twins.

"He a-a-a-ask S-S-S-Scorponok tail." Rumble explains, and, after a second frowning, the ranger's face lights up in understanding.

"The scorpion creature from Qatar." The black-skinned soldier fills in at the confused looks from the teenagers and the Secretary's assistants. "The thi—eh, the _guy_ who destroyed our base sent it after us. We had it shot with sabot rounds and the tail came off."

"They said they had taken it to a lab ahead of us." The Captain answers the sandy-armored being, who lets his pointing hand fall down to his lap with a grateful nod before looking up at the white-haired one, who puts two fingers on the disk where an ear should be, like a DJ holding the headphones in place, before nodding in return.

A small relieved smile crosses Starscream's face before making a go ahead gesture with his mobile arm, and, after a second, the fingers against the side of Soundwave's head fall down with yet another nod.

"I really need a list with the updated designations." Megatron grumbles, with Optimus nodding in agreement with a half-amused half-confused smile.

"Don't we all." Ironhide answers dryly before biting down on his empty can.

Sam winces at the seemingly too-loud screech of metal as the heavily-armed creature rips a bite off of the top of the can, followed by crunching sounds as he munches on it.

Stunned, the teenager can only look with an open mouth and wide eyes as the scarred being keeps eating his can, and, soon enough, the rest finish with what was inside their own and start munching on the metal.

"What kind of teeth do these guys have?" Glen whimpers, and Sam finds himself nodding before registering the snickers of the twins, who are looking at them like a new TV show.

"They _a-a-a-amusing_." Rumble whispers, loud enough to be heard, and the teenager closes his mouth with a snap, something that makes the children-like beings laugh.

"We could start by those of us here." Optimus comments, and Sam has to take a second to think back to what was said before realizing they're continuing the conversation of before they started eating the cans.

"Good enough for me." The not-cop answers nonchalantly before popping the last of his can in his mouth, swallowing before letting out some clicking. "And 'Barricade' in English."

Starscream lets out an annoyed rumble as he gets to his feet, wincing as his arm dangles at his side, useless but barely splattered with the purplish rust-red liquid that is their blood, despite the heavy damage to it.

"We know." Optimus comments sympathetically, looking at Megatron as the other approaches Simmons.

The agent, forgotten until then, scrambles a bit away as he sees the Decepticon approaching, but his wide eyes scream loud enough for them to know he thinks this is his end.

"Your jacket. Now." The red-eyed creature growls and, trembling slightly, the man obeys, almost throwing the piece of clothing at the armored being before huddling into himself again.

Not even looking back, the Decepticon returns to the rest of Cybertronian and starts fashioning a makeshift sling for Starscream's injured arm, carefully tying the sleeves of the jacket behind the sandy being's armored neck.

He chirps while doing so, not taking his attention from the uncomfortable-looking CON.

"Which would be Megatron." He adds, stepping away and observing his work with a critical eye, not noticing or caring about the amusement of the rest of Cybertronian. "What _did_ they do to you." He whispers, his concentration turning to sadness, before he looks at the rest of Decepticons. "To all of you."

"Reply: Experimentation on restraining procedures." The white-haired being, the only one not armored, answers without emotion, his metallic voice sounding colder and putting a dark frown on his leader's face as he turns to glare at a cowering Simmons.

"My designation's Ironhide." The Autobot adds after a second of slightly tense silence, relaxing almost nonchalantly as he follows the English name with his whistled and clicked one, and the rest seem to calm down too, although Megatron's tightly-pressed fists tremble softly.

"I am Optimus." Prime follows, clicking afterward, and looking down at the chirpy yellow and black-armored creature after the smaller whistles something. "And in English, his would be Bumblebee."

"And I am Brawl." The one with tank nozzles on his back finishes, following his words with his Cybertronian name.

"Ravage." The black-plated less human-like creature adds, voice a deep rumble that reminds Sam of a cat, and the teenager barely keeps his surprise to a jerk as he looks at the walkway where they saw the feline being before bullets started flying.

Could Cybertronian be animal-like?

"Laserbeak." The girl-like one follows after her companion's clicking, whistling her name without care for the wide-eyed stare from the human boy, for, despite looking feminine, her—or his?—voice is a neutral, almost masculine, rasp.

And then, the door opens and an armored Ratchet comes in, followed by a bulky dark yellow plated creature with arms twice longer than normal divided in three parts instead of two, big spines growing skyward from somewhere on his back and triangular-shaped forelegs and feet much like Megatron's, although with the weight of the body resting on four clawed toes keeping the wheel-like thing between them from touching the ground, like Jazz's own feet.

His head is covered by cropped pale brown hair, five plates growing from between his eyebrows in a fan-like pattern to cover his forehead, and his lower face hidden behind a triangular-shaped mask formed by two triangles growing from the jawline and a more rectangular one going from nose to chin.

His eyes are pupil-less and bright red, surrounded by the black eyeball and making them look small in the shadows created by his own facial plating.

The Autobot First Lieutenant is half-walking half-carried by the obviously Decepticon creature, also armored but without the face-guard under his visor, revealing his strained smile. The arm that isn't around dark yellow shoulders is curled over his almost black abdomen, hints of silver so bright that they look like newly welt patches shining on it.

It takes Sam a second to realize that, despite him moving his legs to simulate walking, Jazz's feet don't touch the floor, the hand clasped over the arm around broad shoulders and the other around the silver waist carrying the Autobot's weight.

There is also a too great amount of darkened purplish rust-red dried liquid covering his lower body and chest.

"Can somebody explain me why are you having a picnic in _here_?" Ratchet exclaims, eyes glowing brightly, as well as the glass in front of them, as he glares at the Cybertronian, who seem to cower under his gaze, including, to the teenager's amusement, the two leaders.

When that glare lands on the humans, though, the boy can understand perfectly their wariness.

"And you!" An accusing green finger points at the sandy-armored creature, who jerks with a wince. "I don't care if you CONs have thicker armor, emergency manually-controlled sensory nets and safety clasps to avoid leaking to deactivation, when you're injured you come to my Repair Bay im—mediately…" Wide bright blue eyes dim with horror as they look over the Decepticon, arm shaking softly as it lowers almost unconsciously and angry tension disappearing from the green and gray-armored body. "By the Allspark, what have they done to you…" He whispers tremulously, looking torn between rushing to the injured or running away, face paling.

Jazz's smile has vanished, mouth slack open in surprise as the arm around dark yellow shoulders tightens its grip, but the CON just looks away with something akin to shame and pain.

A low growl coming from Starscream's body breaks the stillness, and Ratchet gets to his side with long strides and a murderous scowl, with which the annoyed rumbling of what sound like turbines cuts out with a hiccup as the Decepticon huddles a bit into himself with wary wide eyes fixed on the medic.

The clicking and chirping and whistling coming from the green-haired creature's mouth as he examines the sandy-armored one doesn't sound exactly pleased, and all the flinching and tensing from the rest of Cybertronian only supports that.

When the almost too bright eyes fall on Simmons, the man starts begging.

"Alright! I've had _enough_!" The medic exclaims, throwing his glowing hands up with a loud roar and eyes so bright they seem completely blue before pointing at Optimus, who can't help but flinch back. "You! Take them out of here, _no one_ is to stay in this House of Horrors! And you!" His accusing finger turns to Megatron, who doesn't exactly flinch, but his body is a bit too tense and his face too guarded. "Have your CONs drag away those fragging sadistic slavers but _keep them alive_. I want to have _words_ with them." All the Cybertronian shudder at the suddenly lower voice, with the exception of Soundwave, but seeing as the white-haired man-like being casually steps away from the medic, it doesn't count. "Someone get Jazz from Bonecrusher and _don't let him walk_. Be careful with his midsection." Ironhide nods and quickly goes to his fellow Autobot, who grimaces as the CON helps put him on the back of the scarred one, although he quickly relaxes on the new position. "_You_ are coming with me and Bonecrusher to the Repair Bay and _you_ will let me take a look at your voice box once I'm done with him." Starscream looks like he'd be whimpering if he could, and Soundwave is too quick to nod as the green and gray-armored BOT turns his glare on him.

"What are you going to do?" Optimus asks softly, having used the time without those too bright eyes on him to calm down.

"I'm going to take AF-CMD to the Repair Bay to see what can I do. I'll meet you topside once I'm done. Bonecrusher'll be watching my back-plating and Soundwave's monitoring us." The medic explains, adding the last part with a raised hand when it looks like Prime's going to protest. "We're getting out of here _right now_, I don't care if we have the Government's support, approval or whatever. We are _not_ staying, so I suggest you use the time I'm busy to get a deal with Secretary Keller over there." He finishes more calmly, pointing at the humans but not looking at them. "Let's go, I want to get a look at that _body_ before something important falls off." He growls at Starscream, who scowls but follows nevertheless when the medic goes back to the elevator, the CON that had carried Jazz following after them and giving Sam a good view of the long metallic arm resting on his back and topped with those spines visible from his front.

Once the door closes behind them, Optimus takes a deep breath and looks at the humans.

"Get up, we're getting out of here."


	8. Of the Unraveling Past

The silence snaps when the elevator doors close.

"So, you're the survivors." Epps turns to the bored-looking black-skinned man-like being on the corner opposites them in the elevator, snarling.

"Not thanks to you, you God-dammed—"

"Enough!" Lennox cuts, and hopes the small headache assaulting him doesn't grow.

The CON doesn't even seem to hear, simply staring with boredom at the wall in front of him with shiny red irises, cradling the scorpion-like creature, tail reattached, on his arms.

He had misjudged. He _is_ taller than Epps, almost by a full head.

Like the other two downstairs, he also wears a military-like uniform, this one mostly black with a silvery high-collar and lining down his chest and over his shoulders, with black trousers with various pockets strapped to his thighs by silvery straps and knee-high boots with silvery shoelaces crisscrossing over the calf and the same colored soles.

Unlike the others, though, he's wearing a trench coat.

A long black thing to mid-calf, looking slightly ragged on the edges, with the same triangle-like face that seems to be the Decepticon's insignia on a band around the left upper-arm. His broad shoulders are covered by metallic shiny black thick plates, making them look even broader.

His hands are covered by what looks like skin-tight black gloves, but that he's starting to suspect may be the being's hands.

His black hair is cropped, and he has shiny black three-pointed metallic protuberances instead of ears, turning a bit back and out. There are two 'V'-like crests on his forehead, one inside the other, and blade-like thin slabs of the same shiny black metal grow along his jaw-line, like a macabre beard.

What he didn't misjudge was the scorpion-like creature. Now that it's curled contently in the arms of the man-like being, lying against his chest and making a soft purring sound, like an over-sized cat, he sees that it really is the size of a ten year old, although it looks smaller when compared to the human-like creature.

Its tail is dangling lazily over the human-like being's shoulder, something that only supports the cat-like image.

"Are you seriously telling me you're alright with being with the things that killed—"

"Epps." He cuts sharply, at the brink of pulling rank on the other man, as he feels glowing gazes turn to them. "I've said it's enough."

"Easy, Captain. I've been called worse." He tenses sharply before calming himself at the voice of the black-skinned creature.

"I hope so."

"Epps—!"

"No! I can't just stand here with that murderer! You heard that Simmons guy, he destroyed the base because he _wanted to_!" A dark and low laughter makes a shiver travel up their backbones, and, when he turns, Lennox's eyes meet the darker red and brighter glowing of their attacker.

"Why, of course. Because it isn't as if there aren't any other military bases or _towns_ here, I traveled halfway across the world just because and decided to hack the database because vaporizing you _insects_ wasn't enough." The creature mocks, though the sharpness of his eyes makes the Captain stop for a second and go through his words carefully.

"AF-OFC-RS, that will be enough." The blue and red armored one says calmly, though there's a warning ringing in his voice.

"You're not a CON, PRIME, nor a MED, so mute it. But don't get your cabling in a twist, I'm not going to lose more energy with them." The Decepticon growls, turning back to glare at the wall, the scorpion-like creature looking up at him with worry shining in all four completely red eyes.

"Why would you hack into our network when you have a professional hacker that managed to do it almost unnoticed?" He asks softly after the doors open and they walk outside the elevator, the doors to the dam closed to keep the harsh wind out.

"Maybe because I wasn't trying to get into the Defense network?" The taller being answers with a small sneer, not looking at him, and the creature in his arms curls a bit more against his chest. "Maybe because I was looking for something else?" His last question doesn't sound as mocking, more like defeated, and the glow from his eyes dims a bit.

"In a military base without any kind of special operations going on and lost in the desert of Qatar?" Epps growls almost derisively, and suddenly black eyeballs with bright red irises snap to them.

"Well, ex_cuse_ me! We can't all be human! How were we supposed to know the information in the secure network the Slavers didn't know we knew about was a decoy?!" He shoots, shoulders and arms trembling as he fights the urge to lash out and a soft glow covering his body.

"A decoy?" Lennox repeats calmly, glaring at Epps when the man looks about to snap back.

After a couple of deep breaths, the threatening rumbling filling the room stops as the CON gets the glow to vanish and his trembling under control, but his eyeballs remain black.

"After the BOTs here went away, they got High Protector. They said they would take him to another base and dismantle him to try and see what had gone wrong with PRIME and ensure it wouldn't happen again. They made Starscream High Protector and left us just like that, as if we wouldn't even _care_. But we do. So, Starscream and Soundwave put a plan together, and I got to the location where the Slavers' info said they had taken High Protector to get him back. Turns out he wasn't there, so I tried to hack in your network to try and see if there was any information about a basement or something." He explains, calming yet tensing as he remembers, gaze never leaving Lennox's.

"Why kill all the soldiers?" The man asks almost softly, because he's seen them react, how protective and fierce they are when it comes to each other, and he can believe Sector Seven pulling such a thing up.

"Whatever I do, there must never be witnesses. That's how I was created. That's how _all_ of us CONs were created."

The room seems to freeze at those words.

It's only when the elevator door opens once more, allowing the rest of the Decepticons to step out dragging the bunch of still tied up guards and scientists and the terrified Simmons still cuffed to the unconscious agent, that the Captain realizes Epps hasn't answered back at the CON.

When he looks at his friend, he sees he's glaring, but at the two agents instead of the Cybertronian.

They both know how it is, being trained soldiers themselves.

And taking into account the CON—Blackout—isn't human, they understand the drive behind his actions.

They don't know if he would have done it regardless of orders, but if all that talk about programming was something to go about, it's likely that 'being created to be something' means a lot more than 'being under threat of a War Council if I don't do something'.

Simmons whimpers a bit under the glares of the rest of the humans, added to the glowing stares of the Cybertronian.

"Now that we're all here, I would like to know the truth." Everybody turns to the Secretary of Defense, who has kept quiet since the appearance of the second group of creatures, but is now looking at them with all the authority his title grants him almost oozing off of him. "From the beginning." He adds, looking at the two leaders, who nod in unison without even exchanging a look.

"Very well."

"If I may." They all stare surprised at Barricade's interruption of the blue and red armored being, but he seems nonplussed, exchanging a look with the red-eyed leader instead before turning to Blackout. "There are stretchers in the helicopters outside, right?" The other nods, frowning softly in confusion. "Alright, I'm going to get a couple of them while you tell them about the Allspark."

"What for?" The teenager asks, and Lennox is sure the expression on his own face is pretty much like that on all the Cybertronian's as they give him a _duh_ look.

"Jazz and Scorponok." The black and white armored creature answers simply, going to the doors. "Should I get another for Starscream?" He asks, opening them and giving the group a look over a shoulder.

Without an answer, he walks out and closes the doors behind him, keeping the harsh wind outside.

"Did he…?" Epps asks him softly, and he shakes his head with a surprised and confused look, for he did not see any of the others if they answered non-verbally.

But that doesn't mean they didn't, so he just shrugs it off and turns to where the two Cybertronian leaders are having a conversation with only glances.

After a second more of silence, they nod in unison once more and turn to face the group of humans, looking like teachers about to start a lesson.

"Our knowledge of Project Allspark is incredibly limited, even though it is important in our being here, alive and sentient. Or, more likely, it is the reason of it." Optimus starts, directing a glare to Simmons, who flinches, before calming down and turning back to them. "What we know is that it was the Project that designed the first of us and gave us a spark, our life source, and a mix of what humans refer to as the metaphorical heart and soul, as well as something akin to your physical heart, for it does indeed pump energy to our systems, though not life fluids. The specifics of our construction or the reasons behind them, beyond our pseudo-military status, are unknown to us."

"What we do know, is that they _really_ wanted us to be the best militant force ever witnessed by your species." Megatron supplies, arms crossed against his chest but looking imposing instead of defensive. "Our brains are more like computer processors than a flesh organ, and thus easily modified… to an extent." His glare is both burning and freezing as it's turned to the Sector Seven agents. "We are given a base programming before being activated, given life, that will be what we are, what dictates our actions. Though some of it can be overwritten, modified or simply deleted, like those obedience and denigrating protocols. Which is why they like to freeze us and tamper with us, to try to find a way to _leash_ us again." His voice lowers to a threatening growl, and there are more than two pairs of glowing eyes on the agents and some human ones, too.

"Megatron and I were the first Cybertronian to be created that survived." The blue-eyed leader steps in, calmer than the others and managing to tapper off their anger as their attention is once more pulled to the past. "Since our activation, there have been different methods used in the creation of the rest of us, and different Cybertronian models tried. The most obvious, and principal ones, are Au.T.O. BOT, or Autobot, and D.E.C.E.P.T.I. CON, or Decepticon."

"This division is based on your own military." The brown-gray armored being continues once Optimus falls silent, glaring at his feet in response to some kind of memory.

If he's really one of the firs two, Lennox is sure there are a lot of bad memories to glare at, even though he doesn't know how long they've been alive.

"Sector Seven is a Special Division of the Government, and so it has a lot more Divisions in it, to deal with whatever slag it is they deal with." Megatron goes on, looking slightly annoyed and disgusted. "The one that deals with the Allspark and, consequently, us, is the Robotics Division, and, in this one, two others, the Subdivision of Combat Service Support and the Subdivision of Non-Human Combat Operations."

"N.H.O.…" The blond, Maggie Madsen, whispers with a grimace audible in his voice, and both leaders nod.

The doors open, and the green being with the tank nozzles on his back steps towards it to help the black and white armored one carry the two rigid folding stretchers inside, closing the door behind him.

They all move a bit to make way, and the white-haired CON and blond BOT hurry to help set up the stretchers and rest the two injured beings on them, the silvery man-like one whimpering softly as he's moved from his fellow's back.

The blue-eyed leader steps next to the stretcher once he's laid down, and clasps a hand on the silvery one not laying over the charred and mangled-looking abdomen.

"Do not keep it inside." He whispers softly, and the sound that echoes after those words breaks Lennox's heart.

The silver-haired head turns to the side, body trembling softly as Optimus' free hand runs feather-like over his cheek, an expression on his face as pained as the white noise whimpers and static burst gasps escaping the silvery frame.

"What happened to him?" Epps asks softly as the red and blue armored being coos and clicks soothingly, never ceasing in his caresses.

"Au.T.O. BOT stands for Auxiliary and Terraforming Operations of Robotics Division, sometimes called BOT CSS Au.T.O., or Robotics Division's Combat Service Support, Auxiliary and Terraforming Operations. D.E.C.E.P.T.I. CON, on the other hand, is the acronym for Defense, Espionage, Combat, Electronics, Planning and Technical Intelligence of Combat Operations by Non-Humans." Ironhide explains, his voice dark with pain and hatred but soft with the agony it is to watch one of their own injured badly enough to do their equivalent of crying without regard for the humans or Sector Seven agents in the room. "We Autobots were built to be medics, weapon developers, engineers and transport specialists. The Decepticons were build to be fighters. Army, Air Force… They got the thick armor, we got the processor capability to know how to mix two chemicals to make a bomb and not have it explode in our faces." He adds, turning his glare to the ground as the silvery being's sounds turn softer, but the supporting string of clicking and whistling never wavers.

"I got a sabot round on my back plating." All human eyes go to the green armored creature, who turns around to show his blackened and slightly cracked tank nozzles and surrounding armor. "It wasn't a shot at point blank, but my armor's far thicker than any BOT's."

"Jazz's _was_ point blank." Barricade puts in, crossing his arms against his chest to keep the shaking mostly hidden, although the rage from his face can't be so easily shoved away. "He was the only one of us capable of hacking into the control room, but when the door opened… bang." All humans flinch at the flash of red from his eyes, accompanied by that of the rest of red-eyed beings, along with the flash of blue from the Autobots. "Hadn't we been here, with access to the labs once we secured the control room and Soundwave got in control, he would have deactivated. It was only because Soundwave and Bonecrusher were already on the move and Starscream was messing with you down at the basement that Ratchet got Bonecrusher to take them to the labs so quickly. Otherwise…"

No more words follow, but none are needed.

"But what about Starscream? He got pretty hurt from the sabot rounds." Epps asks, and Blackout looks alarmed for a moment as he quickly looks at his fellow CONs, who all look away in pain and guilt.

"Go back to the story. It'll come up." Barricade answers while hunching a bit into himself, body shaking with shame and guilt warring with the pain in his eyes.

"As Ironhide said, they built us differently from the very beginning, starting from us, the highest ranking officers in both Autobot and Decepticon ranks, and following with branch and sub-branch leaders." Megatron concedes almost instantly, and some of the dark feelings crowding the red-eyed beings lessen as their attention shifts. "Quatermasters and Assistant Chiefs for the BOT, and Commanders and Officers for the CON."

"But, as we explained, they used different methods." Optimus supplies, Jazz silent and calm under his caresses, but blue eyes never look up from the hidden face. "With the first created after us, they followed the same system, or at least we did not see any exaggerated modifications, besides those needed to get different frames… But they became bolder after that, the minuscule changes on both physical methods and coding becoming such that some did not survive past their first day after activation." Both him, Ironhide, Megatron and Soundwave bow their heads, as if remembering, and silence falls on them.

Lennox exchanges a mildly horrified look with Epps before looking at the Secretary's assistants and the two civilians, who are pale and look about to be sick.

"Did they already know you were sentient?" Secretary Keller asks softly, and Will pleads them silently not to answer the truth, because he has a very strong suspicion about what it is.

Bowed heads lower, those of the Cybertronian not doing so quickly mimicking them, and his heart sinks.

"Yes." Megatron's voice, surprisingly yet not so, is barely more than a whisper, and filled only with pain and suffering. Optimus starts cooing again as Jazz shivers. "They knew from our very beginning. That's why they started trying different methods, to try and implement some of the restrictions they developed with Optimus and I from the start, to try to circumvent or eliminate the 'glitch' that gifted us sentience. When they finally realized they wouldn't make any kind of progress any time soon, they decided to go a step further and start with blank slates."

"Oh my God…" Lennox whispers, feeling as if he's going to be sick as his eyes fall on the smallest CONs, huddling around Soundwave, who wraps his arms around them in a protective gesture, and the scorpion-like one, who, despite lying on the stretcher, huddles closer to the side where Blackout is standing, strong hands holding the smaller being close.

"They _are_ children…" Epps whispers, looking as pale as the Captain has ever seen him, and as wide eyed as the first time his eyes met their base's annihilator.

"I still remember when they gave me Bumblebee." The Autobot leader whispers, embracing the yellow and black armored creature with one arm when he huddles into his side, the other hand still clasped around the silvery one. "He was so tiny, barely the length of my forearm…" There's a fond and reminiscing smile on his face as he tilts the blond head back so his gaze can meet the other BOT's. "He had no movement coordination, could not properly talk even in Cybertronian… but he was smiling. Always smiling." A small, watery yet tearless smile appears on the blond's face as his smaller black hand wraps around the one caressing his jaw. "And then, they gave me Jazz, and even though he was already capable of walking unaided and could perfectly talk in Cybertronian, even going so far as beginning to try English, he was still so _tiny_, too…" The hand still clasped around the silvery one moves, dragging the arm with it, as it goes to the head to caress the cheek again, and the body on the stretcher seems to relax even further. "Those were some of the happiest days of my activated time."

Will looks away, pain in his features, for it strikes too close to home, the experience being described too painful for one who couldn't be there at his daughter's birth. Epps puts a hand on his shoulder in a silent gesture of support, and, even though he acknowledges it with a nod, he doesn't really feel better for it.

"Important: Presence. Arrival: Irrelevant." The Captain looks up sharply, and his eyes meet Soundwave's visor with surprise.

It's only then when he notices how many of the smaller ones, which is all but one, are crowded around him, and it finally dawns that he is their father figure, that as cold and emotionless as he looks or sounds like, he's guarding them with a ferocity that is not visible, but there nonetheless.

"Are you sure?" He asks softly, because if he compares the small CONs' apparent age with the two BOTs, they are far younger, and, as thus, were born as babies, so he will have more experience with newborns than the blue-eyed leader.

"I wasn't given to the main CON group until far in my development." The one-eyed creature says, looking up at the ranger but not letting go of the red twin and the adult-like being. "I was the first of my kind, of the animal-class, and so they… they studied me thoroughly." He turns away for a second before looking up again, this time with determination. "When I met the rest of the CONs, I didn't care that we'd been in the same building all the time, that they knew what was being done to me but nothing they did changed it. What mattered was that we were finally together, and that I _knew_ I could count on them, even when we weren't with each other. That I can keep trusting them, because I know they will always be there when I come back to them, no matter how long it takes me, or them, to get reunited. That was why we went after High Protector, why Frenzy and Barricade hacked into the Defense Network and avoided the areas they _knew_ the Autobots were at, why Blackout 'deserted' and went to Qatar almost without supplies, why Starscream risked so much with the plan. Because, when the time was right, we would be all together once more, by their or our hands."

There's silence after Ravage's words, as everybody processes them and as the Cybertronian sooth down their younglings, who release them but don't really get away.

And then, Lennox nods with a small but sincere and warm smile, and meets the teenager-like being's eye.

"Thank you. And thank you too." He adds, looking at Soundwave, who nods back with an emotionless visage, but the gesture is soft enough that he doesn't need it to change.

"Do you have children?" The civilian girl asks softly, a small confused frown on her face, and his smile turns to a mixture of loving and proud as he gets his wallet and picks out a picture of Sarah with their child on her lap, looking at the camera with wide baby blue eyes.

"Yes, a daughter, Anabelle. I have yet to meet her." He answers, letting her take the picture and nodding when the rest ask to get a turn looking at it too. "But you are right. I am alive and here, and I will meet her, even if it's some days later than I first thought it would be." He adds, his smile turning warmer as the picture goes to Barricade, who doubts a bit before taking it.

The CON's face quickly fills with wonder and warmth and, soon enough, the rest of Cybertronian get their chance to look at his beautiful daughter and mirror the black and white armored one's expression in different degrees.

When the picture comes back full circle, the atmosphere has lighted, and even Jazz has turned around to look at them, Optimus' hand still grabbing his but no longer caressing his cheek.

"So, back to the topic." All eyes turn once more to Ironhide, but, despite the loss of the calm and warmth in the room, the oppressive darkness hasn't crept back on them. "They kept their experiments, both with new Cybertronian and with those of us already active, trying to find a better way to control us, to keep us leashed. Again, their methods varied and some of us… some just couldn't endure." They look away for a second, and the dark fury is once more in various metal-clad bodies when he continues. "But then, they took one step too far."

"What did they do?" The civilian boy asks softly, wincing when glowing gazes lands on him.

"They crippled one of us, returned him to us and denied access to the labs, to the medical facilities." Optimus answers instead, and it's even worse, because they're not used to hearing the kind of dark loathing filling the Autobot's voice. "We were forced to watch him wither, suffer, because of the new enslaving coding they had come up with. So, we rebelled."

"Had we known you CONs had bypassed the slaving coding too we would have broken out together, but as it was… We took the first opportunity that came to us, crashed their labs to get whatever Ratchet needed and high-tailed it out and as far away as we could." Ironhide continues, and the growling that comes from him is more fitting for a large vehicle's engine than for a human-like being, robotic or not. "Staid low after that, getting him back to spec, or as close to that as we could, before a close call forced us to scatter. And then, the rest you know."

"Perhaps, but only on the surface." The Secretary comments, once the growling has lowered to an annoyed humming. "Do you mind giving us a summary, so that we all may stand on the same page?"

"Who got hurt?" The civilian boy—Sam? Was it Sam?—asks, genuine worry in his voice as he looks over the Cybertronian.

"Bumblebee." Optimus answers softly, and it's only then that Lennox realizes how tightly he's holding the smaller one to his chest, how the blond's face is hidden against his blue and red armor and how his fists are tightly pressed against the plates around his bowed head. "Their actions harmed him greatly, but Ratchet managed to heal most of them. Unfortunately, the base coding for his communications matrix was heavily corrupted, to the point that human languages became indecipherable."

"But… he speaks." The Secretary's female assistant supplies softly, and a humorless smile makes the Autobot leader's lips twitch.

"He does not. His communications matrix was damaged to the point the signals appertaining human languages are so encrypted and damaged, his voice box cannot decipher them, and thus he remains unable to speak them. But if those signals came from a different source, there would be no corruption, and he would be able to use his voice box to 'speak' in a manner."

"He speaks through stereo. And he doesn't move his lips!" Sam—he's sure it's Sam—replies with a confused frown, gesturing a bit.

"As you have said, he uses the stereo, which means he does not need to form words, they are already 'made' for him. Moving his lips to give an illusion of him being the speaker would be pointless and a waste of energy." The blue-eyed leader answers, and there's a hint of something in his gaze as he looks at the boy, something that resembles amusement…

"He took my car's radio!" He exclaims, looking dumbfounded and annoyed at the same time, and Lennox frowns. "That's why it's missing!"

"He did, so that he could incorporate the necessary parts to finish Ratchet's pseudo-speaking device. He did so the same night you first saw him. He was really surprised you had not noticed before." Bumblebee, no longer plastered against the blue and red armor, grins brightly at the spluttering boy, 'innocent' whistling sounding from him.

The Captain snickers, and hears Epps do so too, as well as the civilian girl's soft giggling and the boy's wailing.

"So, we got away, got separated, and Bumblebee, as our Assistant Chief of Scout Runners, was tasked with finding someplace to meet again safely, so he took the beacon, hid it where it wouldn't be easily found, and waited." Ironhide pipes in, looking eerily calm. "Sam bought a piece of scrap he thought was a car, witnessed the beacon's activation and got targeted by Sector Seven." He continues, ignoring the teenager's protesting yelp.

"I was able to keep away from the Autobots until then because there weren't any relevant clues, but the report about the Devil trying to steal from a boy's car engines to build an alien flare was too close to home for Sector Seven not to catch up, so they redirected us." Barricade adds, nodding briefly to the silver twin. "So, we got sent to find out who was behind things, met Sammy here and played it so that all would point as the terrain being used against us to let the Autobot escape, because, seriously, I can't just fly out a canyon, so _of course_ the BOT would be gone by the time I got to the top." His smirk is decidedly dangerous, and so clearly seen that Sam's only reaction to the nickname is a twitch. "Trying to gut Frenzy was _not_ a nice addition." He growls softly, and Lennox finds himself tensing as Soundwave's empty face turns to them, definitely not glaring yet being somehow worse because of that.

"We were defending ourselves!" The teenager squeaks, voice higher pitched than before, and the CONs relax, even though some of them were still relaxed.

"Which is why we didn't gut you in return." The black and white armored creature answers almost chirpily, and the boy decides to keep whatever answer to himself.

"We got back together, ended up in Sam's house, got them away from Sector Seven, whom we didn't recognize at the time, and lost them again along Bumblebee almost instantly. We met with Barricade and Frenzy then, and they told us of the situation and helped elaborate a plan. We got here, Frenzy managed to contact Soundwave, and the whole plan was set into motion. Went inside, got Jazz almost deactivated, got control of Hoover Dam and went to help Starscream. And now, we're here." Ironhide supplies after the silence becomes a bit uncomfortable, sounding and looking grumpy.

"From our end of things, it went differently, obviously." Blackout adds, giving a small shrug. "After the Autobots' so called defection, Sector Seven got the idea that Optimus had been the one to go away on his own and dragged the rest by rank alone." All glowing eyes fall on the conscious agent and some of the recovering and still bound scientists and guards, who recoil fearfully. "So, to stop it from happening, they got Megatron. Took him away, saying they would scrap him to figure out what had gone wrong, and simply put Starscream on charge. As soon as the door closed, we were planning how to get our High Protector back. Soundwave got this information a couple days after that, about them having taken him to a certain base in Qatar, and we decided it would be for the best if I went there. So I ran away, got to Qatar, stole a copter and got into the base. And then, I distracted everyone with a big explosion and some small ones while I got into the network to try to find out where they had Megatron, and got rid of the witnesses when I realized they didn't have him there and we'd been had. I got a message to Barricade and Frenzy through the Defense network, made my way to retrieve Scorponok and came back here." He explains, a hand absentmindedly caressing a droopy-eyed, as impossible as such a thing seems, gigantic robotic scorpion.

"So you hacked into the network to get the message?" The female assistant asks, looking at the black and white armored being, who shakes his head.

"We hacked to get information about the Allspark and to get the virus in. Blackout's message was a bonus."

"What's the virus for? Besides shutting down global communications." The other assistant asks, nervously stepping away as a too sharp smile from the CON washes over them.

"Oh, they aren't shut down." He answers almost sweetly, and Lennox has to fight to suppress a shiver. "They're under Soundwave's control." All eyes turn to the white-haired being who nods. "_That_ is what the virus was for. Obviously, we needed to get him out of here or get rid of the inhibitors of this place before he could claim control, but that's been taken care of now. Don't worry, Soundwave's Commander of Logistics and Strategy, which include Communications Management. Your internet memes are in good servos."

For a second, the Captain doesn't know if he's about to laugh or cry.

"Would you relinquish control if a favorable agreement was met?" The Secretary asks the silent CON, who simply stares back, forcing the man to look at Megatron. "Would you?"

"I have no answer right now." Which Lennox knows means 'most likely not, at least not for a few years or _decades_'.

He can't say he blames them for that.

"And from the end of those who staid here?" He asks, because dwelling in the communications issue won't help neither group right now, and there's still that very big question mark left.

All eyes turn to Soundwave, but it's Brawl who shifts loudly, drawing their attention before answering.

"After Blackout went on his own, Sector Seven went _real_ crazy. I mean, far crazier than normal. It wasn't just a glitch with PRIME and a rank issue anymore, it was something that could happen with any of us. So they decided to deal with those higher on the hierarchy first and keep a closer grasp on the rest. There were fifty-three Cybertronian in the base after Blackout and Scorponok 'defected. You've met all that remain." The bulky green armored being looks down, guilt and pain and rage in his eyes, and the humans pale. "They got Starscream and Soundwave, and kept the rest of Officers in containment after getting rid of the 'grunts', because we are too valuable and high in the ranks to throw away without a second thought. We didn't see either of them until they came to get us out today for the plan, but the guards like to talk, more when they think you're out of it, so we got some things from them. Like they tampering with their core programming, to try to get rid of their emotional matrix once and for all, implementing new and more aggressive restrictive coding, and even going as far as trying torture to subdue and 'let them know their place'." All those present wince or growl, with Megatron advancing on the cowering humans huddling in a corner, intentions clear in his almost blindingly bright eyes and lifted clawed hands.

Soundwave's movement to rest a couple of fingers against one of the metallic plates in place of ears grabs all their attention and stops all movement.

After a second, he tilts his head minutely towards Brawl.

"MED: Assistance needed in Lab 02."

"On it." The bulkier CON answers with a nod, crossing to get to the elevator, with Ironhide joining him. "Two better than one?"

"You get it." The Autobot says simply and, when the doors open, they get inside without further talk.

"So… now what?" Sam asks softly, looking between the two Cybertronian leaders and the Secretary of Defense.

"Now we go somewhere your medic can work in peace and those cretins can be held in a cozy brig. I need to clear some things with the President and the Senate, and things will have to be decided then. Meanwhile, I can grant you all asylum, protection, while you stay at one of our bases. I'll clear an area for you." He answers at last, looking at Optimus and Megatron.

After a second considering the offer, they turn to each other and start chirping.

Lennox and Epps exchange a look before the elevator opens to let Brawl and Ironhide out, carrying carts full with crates and bags out heavily, the elevator finally rising to its usual level when they get off, with the doors closing almost immediately.

"Ratchet said to get a copter to find a place to stay in, with or without permission, and to load all of this." The Autobot answers the wide-eyed looks with a grunt before starting pushing the cart towards the door, following Brawl's lead.

"And he said that if the Secretary still doesn't know what to do with the Slavers to take them to Lab 04 and knock the shelves off." The CON adds, waiting until Barricade has opened the doors wide enough, and the scientists explode in pleas for mercy.

"We will take them and imprison them, thanks for the proposal. And we will grant you all asylum, if your leaders will accept it. Take the helicopters if you decide not to, but at least call for some more to give us a lift." The graying man answers with a hint of amusement, looking at the highest ranking Cybertronian, who exchange a last look with some more clicking and whistling before nodding towards the man in unison.

"We will accept your offer, for now."

"With one condition." Optimus finishes, as serious and firm as the dam itself. "We will be informed of your Government's decision and the final choice will be left to us, to be accepted or refused whatever it may be. We will not be enslaved again."

"And we don't have any qualms with _keeping_ our freedom." Megatron finishes, and all glowing eyes shine their support and approval.

After a second staring into those red eyes, the Secretary nods.

When the doors open again, half of the beings in the room have already moved or been carried to the choppers Ironhide and Brawl are already loading, so Lennox is one of the few who manages to see the medic slumped against Starscream after the dark yellow CON steps out with yet another full cart, the BOT looking more limp than should be possible for someone still conscious, with the previously glowing orbs in the structures growing off his shoulders now almost completely dull.

"Will he be alright?" He asks the sandy-colored CON, the rest too busy moving the scientists and guards out to notice that the two Cybertronian stop for Ratchet to put himself together instead of Starscream.

Red eyes look at him with an intensity that makes him shiver softly and, after a second, he receives a nod.

"Rest." He rasps, static and hints of white noise mixing with his almost unheard voice, as he helps the medic stand a bit straighter.

When they step out of the dam, the last still in there, Lennox makes sure to walk in front of the other two, helping hide any missteps or lack of strength of the Autobot.

The sight of the helicopter's door closing and the sound of rotors growing louder is the best he's ever seen or heard.


	9. Of the Dawning Future

For a fleeting second, John Keller thinks he knows what was going through Banachek's head when he was trying to explain him about the Cybertronian's existence.

He quickly dismisses the thought almost physically, because what he's trying to do here is the opposite, to convince the President that the human-like creatures _aren't_ weapons.

"So, if I've understood it right, you're telling me that the 'ultimate defense system' Sector Seven was developing is not some new weapon, or computer program or even a better anti-missile technology, but _living beings_? And _sentient_?" The man on the screen looks skeptical and, he thinks, a bit paler than he had been at first.

Keeping a tired sigh in, he simply nods.

"More so, the attack on the SOCCENT base in Qatar wasn't a stolen weapon, but an effort of those beings to, what? _Rescue_ one of their own?" Another nod. "And the hack in the Defense network was done for the same purpose? To try and get what they needed to be free once and for all?" The skepticism and disbelief grows, and the Secretary decides this is not going to end well.

The President is too caught on Sector Seven's story and… well. If he hadn't seen them himself, he would hardly believe the Cybertronian were real either.

"Sir, please, wait a minute." He cuts with a raised hand when the other man seems ready to keep going. "Soundwave, right? Can you ask your leaders to join me, please?" The President looks at him with confusion, for he hasn't looked away from the screen.

After a minute of silence, in which the most powerful man in the USA has started to fidget and grow impatient, the door at his back opens.

He can't help the relieved sigh escaping through his lips as he sees the creatures he asked for entering calmly, standing tall and proud and, to his surprise, unarmored.

Optimus is dressed almost too casually, with that brightly colored jacket with the flame pattern, while Megatron is almost the opposite, his uniform following the pattern of the one he's seen on three of his officers, combining brown-gray tones and with knee-high boots, a calf-long broad-shouldered coat with the flaps, the upper part of the pockets and the shoulders covered by metal plating, and what looks like a Commander's hat with the Decepticon's insignia on his head.

They both still have the metallic plates in place of their ears visible, something he's starting to believe isn't simply capable of change, with the red-eyed being's jawline metal addition and forehead plates still there.

Unlike before, though, their eyes have black pupils despite their irises still being their bright and glowing red and blue, respectively.

When the CON smirks at him, sharp teeth glint almost ominously.

"Yes, his designation is Soundwave." He comments simply as they stop next to him in front of the monitor, one on each side.

The President's jaw falls open as his eyes widen.

He has half a mind to ask them to change to their armored selves, just to see the other man's reaction, but decides against it.

As much as he needs some stress relief, getting it from outright laughing at the _President_ won't end well for him.

"Sir, let me introduce you to High Protector Megatron and Optimus PRIME." He says instead, lifting a hand to gesture at the other two, whom he sees nod at their names from the corner of his eyes. "They are the leaders of the two Divisions of the Cybertronian, the Decepticon and the Autobot, respectively. Or, as we would call them, Combat Operations and Combat Service Support."

"What are those things on their…" The man mutters softly, gesturing to the side of his head.

"Those would be receptors, Mister President." Optimus answers politely, something that makes the still dumbfounded man on the screen stiffen. "Mainly audio receptors, although some of us have other specially designed functions in, or involving, them."

"Ears?"

"Basically."

They stay silent for a second, while the President gets over his surprise.

"How did you… How did you call them here?" He asks Keller once he's calmer, and the Secretary finds himself debating between telling the whole truth or telling a part of the truth that wouldn't let reality shine through.

"One of my CONs is monitoring this meeting." Megatron answers instead, straightening almost menacingly.

"What?!"

"It's their future at stake, Mister President." The Secretary of Defense cuts through, before the Decepticon leader can do or say something hasty that will get them all in trouble. "I promised they would be informed of everything that we talked about, and letting them monitor our conversation was the easiest solution." Mostly because they would have done so anyway, but the President doesn't need to know that, not at the moment.

"Why not have them here from the very start, then?"

"Because I preferred to be able to explain the situation to you calmly before you were introduced. It can be… quite a shock, even though the circumstances are peaceful this time."

"Have there been more attacks like the SOCCENT base?" The man asks darkly, glaring at the other two, and the Secretary curses himself in his head.

Megatron tenses, but Optimus chirps a single time, making the CON freeze in place.

The President, once more, looks startled.

"Sir, I assure you there have been no other incidents like that of Qatar, but there _has_ been a riot in Sector Seven's base, during which we took control of Hoover Dam and freed those of us still alive. We will not apologize for either, though, for we were fighting for our lives in both instances, even if what happened at the SOCCENT base could have been avoided."

"You have your _dear_ Sector Seven to thank for that one, for they were the ones who directed my CONs there with fake information." The red-eyed creature adds with a low and slightly rumbling voice, dipping his head so that shadows fall on his face and his irises shine ominously.

The President's expression is that of a lack of balance, going from confusion to outrage to disbelief and to curiosity, circling over and over.

"I explained the situation already, Mister President. They've been Sector Seven's Guinea pigs since they were born, tortured and killed and _enslaved_ because people thought they _could_. They are not humans, we all know that, but can you look them in the eye and tell them they _deserved_ what they went through? That none of us would have fought as they did?" He asks softly, yet with strength in his voice, and prays.

The President leans back in his chair, looking pensive as he looks from red eyes to blue and back again.

When the man's gaze goes to Megatron's metal-covered shoulders and his face darkens, Keller feels as if the ground has started to tremble.

They are not humans, but where the Secretary sees people, the President sees weapons.

The door opens and chirping immediately fills the room.

All of them turn to look at the newcomers, and John Keller's eyes widen in surprise.

The twins and the yellow-clad Autobot walk inside, carrying some cups and speaking happily.

Armor-less as they are, they look… like children.

When they get to their side, the CONs hand the cups they're carrying to the Cybertronian while the BOT gives him his own.

He just has to inhale to recognize the beverage inside as honeyed chamomile tea, the sweet tint barely noticeable, but more than enough to give the liquid a unique flavor.

Just like he drinks it.

He looks at the happily smiling teenager-like creature, and can't help his own smile.

"Thank you… Bumblebee, right?"

"_And__ we have a winner!_" An exaggeratedly happy deep voice exclaims as the yellow-clad BOT beams, getting a chuckle out of him.

"Was that the _radio_?" The President exclaims and, feeling the pieces click in his head with a wave of respect to the CON monitoring them, he turns to the screen again.

"It is, Sir. You see, Bumblebee here was subjected to an experiment that damaged his voice box to the point he's incapable of human speech, so their medic repaired him to be able to use stereo to communicate." He explains, feeling a hint of satisfaction course through his veins at the horror flashing through the man's face as the youngest Autobot leans against Optimus' side with a look that would be better suited for a kicked puppy. "The poor child was lucky his companions revolted to get him the necessary medical help, because Sector Seven just threw him aside to let him die."

"Child?" The President's voice sounds strangled, and Keller's answer is lost as the twins push past him to stand on their toes in front of the screen.

The man on the other side yelps at the sudden appearance of the four pairs of completely blue eyes in the curious childish faces.

Megatron grabs the back of their collars and pulls them back with startled squeaks.

And then, to the Secretary's surprise, he lifts them to his sides, letting them rest on his hips like one would a toddler.

In his arms, and with the childish pouts and too wide eyes, they look _a lot_ younger.

"Frenzy, Rumble. Scaring the President is not a good thing to do." He admonishes patiently, and the twins huddle in his embrace, eyes seemingly widening even more.

"We s-s-s-sorry." They answer in unison, voices thin and weak, and still stuttering in that way that makes Keller think of his own children when they were just starting to learn to form sentences. "We want s-s-s-say hello and thanks, b-b-b-because President give us n-n-n-new home all t-t-t-together."

Against everything telling him those are dangerous soldiers with no remorse for killing or any other underhanded tricks to get what they want—and he has seen proof, there were two bodies left behind in the Air Force One hacking—John Keller can't keep his heart from melting.

Because, human or not, deadly or not, they still curled around Soundwave like his own kids had done during thunderstorms. Capable warriors as they are, they are still children, and the youngest of the group, too.

And one of them had almost been killed already, from what they were told.

"Frenzy." Both twins turn to him, but only the silvery one nods, his pout turning to a look of almost naive curiosity. "They said you got hurt badly, should you really be running around?" He asks, and the worry in his voice is more genuine than he first thought it would be.

For a second, the child-like being doesn't answer, surprised, before he puffs out his chest with a look of pride only a kid would be capable of.

"I s-s-s-strong, Keller-Sir!" He answers almost cockily, tapping his chest before curling into himself with a pained squeak. "I… hit s-s-s-something not strong as r-r-r-rest." He adds with a grimace, curling into Megatron's embrace, who quickly presses him close and starts whispering in his audio receptors, his twin leaning forward to embrace him.

"Hurt? A _child_?" The President exclaims in shock, and the Secretary winces, not sure if what has just happened is an act or the truth.

"He's one of the two they sent for the escapees." He answers simply, approaching the CONs and rubbing circles on the kid-like being's back when no one stops him. "Sorry, Frenzy, I shouldn't have asked."

"You n-n-n-nice." The rust-red twin answers instead, looking up at him with eyes shining with feelings he can't identify. "Other humans n-n-n-never ask, just…" He shivers and curls into the shoulder he's leaning against, and Megatron's soothing rumbling turns dangerous as he glares at a wall.

"You n-n-n-nice." Frenzy repeats, slowly looking up at the Secretary. "President n-n-n-nice. I b-b-b-bad, I in p-p-p-plane, get info and get s-s-s-seen. I h-h-h-hurt people. But President n-n-n-nice, let a-a-a-all together."

"He was the one to hack into Air Force One?" The man on the screen asks softly, stunned and conflicted. "He was the one who killed two of my men? But… he's a kid…"

"Decepticon programming does not allow them to leave witnesses alive, Mister President." Optimus answers, somber, as he cradles the yellow-clad youngster to his side, antennae-like appendages lowered to accentuate the pained look on his face.

"But Keller's still…"

Alive. That's how the sentence ends.

And suddenly, he realizes that's the truth, and fear grabs his innards in a cold and tight grip.

"He hasn't left our side yet. There has always been a CON with the witnesses since we met." Megatron answers, and it's the truth, for the Decepticons divided equally between the two helicopters, and with Soundwave monitoring all those in the base they're in, they have yet to get out of their sight. "And the Autobots are here too. Human relationships outside the chain of command are their jurisdiction, so as long as we're together, your people has nothing to fear. If any of them were to try to get out from our sights without the proper notice to the Autobots, though, it would be automatically identified as a witness going to rendezvous with their people instead of a collaborator." His red eyes are dull as they look at the pale and shaking man onscreen, and Keller barely keeps his fear at bay. "There would be no stopping our programming then, unless an Autobot managed to get a message to all my troops or we were deactivated."

Silence falls over them, and the President looks fearfully at the table under his trembling hands, not really seeing it.

"I will not apologize, Mister President." Megatron continues after almost two minutes, when the man has calmed down enough to look at them again. "I can't apologize for our programming any more than you can for a tornado." His voice is empty, dull, and Keller shudders.

He sounds defeated.

Whatever they do, however this ends, the Decepticons will always be trapped, will always feel the grasp Sector Seven has on them, just like a human will always feel his lungs fill with air.

It can stop for some time, can be stopped by force of will, but, eventually, they will always breath again.

Even when they are free, they are still slaves.

"I do not know if Secretary Keller got to the point of requesting of you what we did of him, Mister President, so I apologize if I am repeating something you have already heard." Optimus' voice is soft, almost pleading in the silence that follows, and, slowly, the man onscreen turns to him with wide eyes, still shocked but listening attentively. "We are aware of our differences, of the danger we pose to your people. We understand your indecision, your doubts, for we care for our own as you do yours. But we are alive, and sentient. We want to _live_." The President shivers softly, and the Secretary isn't sure if he's shivering too or not, all his attention on the Autobot instead of his own body. "We ask for a place to be in, together, _free_. An area, someplace restricted, where we can stay in and be ourselves, without chains, without worries. An abandoned military base and its premises, perhaps, or a small uninhabited island, if you wish. We can have contact with humans, so long as you use regulations as those applied to your military, for all contact with those outside our area will go through the Autobots before being cleared. We are not worse than your average citizen, Mister President, with some of us being trained soldiers with all that entails. There _can_ be peace, _life_. We both just have to agree that we are different, and act accordingly."

A minute goes by in silence, followed by another, and another. No one moves, only soft breathing being heard.

And then, the President lets out a shuddering sigh and straightens in his seat.

"I'll convene with the Senate, let them know of the situation, and we'll get back to you as soon as something is decided." He answers softly, trying to sound calm, but his voice is still shaking. "And…" He looks away, hands turning to fists on his desk. "For all it's worth, I'm sorry."

The screen turns black.

A second later, the twins start chirping so suddenly and excitedly that Keller jumps back in surprise.

"Indeed. That sounded very promising." Optimus chuckles, returning the blinding grins of the youngsters with a more sedate but not less happy smile, hugging the yellow-clad one as he embraces his middle.

"Was it all an act? All that about Decepticon programming?" The Secretary asks, stunned, and the laughter dies as quickly as it started.

Sad blue eyes land on him while red ones shining with helplessness move to stare at the ground.

"It was not." The Autobot leader answers softly, looking at the three CONs still in each others' grasp. "We have been trying to delete that coding, or modify it at the very least, but it is deeply ingrained in their matrix. Now, however, if our request is granted and the necessary material obtained, we will be able to work more freely, and, hopefully, all the stains left from the Slavers' manipulations will be cleaned."

"I really s-s-s-sorry." The silvery twin whispers, looking up at the human from where he's still curled against his leader's shoulder. "We h-h-h-here, Soundwave s-s-s-said it good f-f-f-for President. But I really s-s-s-sorry about plane. I b-b-b-bad CON, b-b-b-bad LS-OFC-IP."

"No, Frenzy. You were good. It wasn't your fault the information wasn't there, it wasn't your fault those men found you. You were good, you did all you could, and you didn't kill Bumblebee's human. You _survived_, you helped _me_. If you hadn't helped Barricade, if you hadn't helped the Autobots… We're here because of you." Megatron whispers, nuzzling the spiky silvery head, and the kid-like being presses even tighter against him, shivering. "And that oil you brought me was of excellent quality. It really helped me a lot to keep a level head."

Keller's eyes grow wider, and he looks down at his cup of tea, but he doesn't need to touch it to know it has gone cold.

A cool yet warm hand grabs his own, and he turns to see a smiling Bumblebee tugging softly of him towards the door.

"_This__ Friday night, do it all again!_" The music sounds as he follows, the hand never leaving his, and, soon enough, a smaller one grabs his free one, and he looks down to meet four blue eyeballs and rusty-red hair, with a silvery figure bouncing happily on the other side.

"I t-t-t-try make human d-d-d-drink now!"

"No, I t-t-t-try!"

"_Anything you can do I can do better; I can do anything better than you._"

"Can n-n-n-not!"

Keller laughs softly, looking over his shoulder to see the two adult Cybertronian follow with warm smiles, and finally relaxes, letting himself be dragged by the youngsters as he listens to their bickering.

Damn, he has never wanted grandchildren as much as this instant.

* * *

William Lennox doesn't know if he should laugh or cry, so he just stays stunned some more.

"_What_?!" Sam exclaims shrilly, and that's all that's needed for motion to start again.

The two woman shriek as they cover their eyes, Glen Whitman looks almost as scared as when they were in the middle of the shootout at the Dam, and the Witwicky boy is fighting _really hard_ to keep his eyes from looking over Barricade, who is leaning against the wall with an amused smirk.

The kid's failing spectacularly, something the CON seems to find even more amusing the longer it goes on.

After a blink, the ranger turns to Ironhide, lounging on the seat next to him and snickering softly, before looking to the other side, where Epps is sitting next to an outright laughing Blackout. Brawl and Bonecrusher, who despite being unarmored occupy a whole couch, are having a not too innocent-sounding conversation in Cybertronian, dark smirks on their faces.

Their uniforms are more like Will's own than the rest of the Decepticons, with the exception of the color, the same as their armors, and the heavy-looking and fully loaded vests filled with pockets, belt clips equally charged, cargo pants with seemingly even more pockets than Ironhide's and boots that look as heavy as concrete slabs. Furthermore, Brawl wears a big squared backpack and a helm, now hanging on his back from the strap around his neck, while Bonecrusher has the same kind of backpack and his arms encased in enough metal to make them look twice as thick, although they're human length now.

The green-clad man has a single plate growing from where his ears should be, extending down to frame his cheeks, and up to cover the upper part of his forehead, making Lennox think of one of those helmets those Martial Arts fighters wear. Taekwondo? Judo? One of those.

The dark yellow one, instead, has kept the fan-like plates on his forehead, and has disks instead of ears, from which extend a band connecting them from around the back of his head, small pointy protuberances growing towards his jaw line.

There are soft snickers from the opposite couch, where Jazz is lying on his back with his head on an unarmored Ratchet's lap. The silvery BOT is the only one still armored, because the medic has forbidden him changing back until his injuries are further healed. Now that his body is cleaned, though, they all wonder how he was even able to keep conscious back at Hoover Dam, because only the plating on the upper chest has a mesh pattern, but if they didn't known better they would have said it extends to his lower torso too, so many welds and seams still shining brightly in contrast to the normal plating, along far too many pieces that had to be replaced.

Ravage, Laserbeak and Scorponok, sitting on the ground against the legs of the CONs on the couch, laugh loudly, still in their armored forms with the latter in animal per medic's orders, for they only have this and their animal-like forms. To see the red-colored youngster change into a giant vulture-like beast capable of flight left them without words for five very long minutes, for they had seen Ravage's panther-like form briefly during the scuffle at the Dam, but not his brother's. They can't wait to see the scorpion-like creature's child-like form.

The third and last couch, between the two occupied by the Cybertronian and in front of the chairs the rangers are sitting on, closing their square, is where the two teenagers and the Secretary's assistants are sitting, and is, currently, the self-appointed 'Couch of the Self-Conscious', judging by their reactions.

Starscream, once more in his uniform and still showing off those wing-like structures on his back, snorts from where he's perched on the back of the Autobot's couch, arms crossed against his chest, before exchanging a smirk with an immutable Soundwave, standing at his side.

"What? Did you think our armors were some kind of addition?" The Decepticon First Lieutenant asks, thoroughly amused, with his voice still lower and raspier than the first time they heard it, but at least without white noise or static in it anymore.

"Well, _I_ didn't really think about it being part of you! About _your clothes_ being you!" Sam shrieks, and Will finally decides that laughing is better than the alternative, so he starts chuckling, Epps quickly following his example. "And why are you laughing?! We're in a room with a bunch of _naked people_!" The teenager shouts, pointing an accusing finger at the rangers, who just laugh harder.

"Please, it isn't as if we have genitalia to go showing around." The medic chides with a roll of his eyes, cuffing Jazz softly on top of his head when his laughter grows to the point he starts curling into himself. "And you be still. I'm not patching you again, lest of all so soon after last time. I've seen enough of your entrails for the year, thank you very much." The Cybertronian laugh louder at that, with even the green-haired being breaking into a smile, and the soldiers follow suit, to the astonishment of the civilians.

"Oh God…" Glen squeaks, looking horrified at the two Autobots but unable to rip his gaze off of them. "He has his head on his—" Maggie quickly shuts him up with a shrill scream, almost immediately drowned by the new bout of laughter.

"Humans." Barricade snorts, moving from his spot on the wall behind the rangers to lean against the back of Blackout's chair, resting his arms on the taller creature's shoulders and his chin on his head, a lazy smirk on his face. "They act so modest and embarrassed now, yet they exchange internal fluids through their mouth in broad daylight and in the middle of the street."

A loud chorus of disgusted sounds and some clicking that would translate into curses erupts in the room from all Cybertronian, reactions going from the sickly looks on the two CONs on the couch and the gagging motions of the youngsters, to the pale and horrified look on Ratchet's face and Soundwave's tense stance and twitching brow.

"Are you fragging _serious_?!" Ironhide exclaims, making Will wince at his loud voice, fingers curling and uncurling as if he's not sure what to do with them, glaring at Barricade.

The cop-looking being nods, making Blackout's shocked and unresponsive head follow the movement without eliciting a response from him.

"There I was, walking down the street, when suddenly I see those two younglings their age on the hood of a car." He explains making a vague gesture towards Sam and Mikaela, his eyes lost on the wall, although unseeing, as his face distorts with a disgusted grimace. "They were just there lying on it, slipping down and having to slide up again all the time, and looking as if trying to bite each others face off, all those trails of fluid on their lips and tongues and—"

"Gross, gross, _gross_!" Laserbeak squeaks, shaking his hands as if to get rid of some kind of liquid on them. "_Stop it_!"

"I was sure I was going to purge right there and then. Took me almost a full hour to convince Frenzy I wasn't malfunctioning. The only good thing was that he slept through all of it." The CON continues, thankfully, for the rest, skipping what Lennox is starting to think is a kiss.

Or a make out session, to be more accurate, but he's too busy keeping his amusement to a smile.

"Seriously, what is it with humans? Such contradictory creatures… So shy for some things and so… whatever the word is for some others. What's next? Interfacing on the street?" Bonecrusher scowls, shivering a bit.

"Well…"

"_NO_!"

Will can't help but laugh at the unanimous shout from every Cybertronian in the room at Barricade's simple word, and the rest of humans follow suit.

A hand landing softly on his shoulder helps him calm down, though he's still smiling widely as he looks up into Soundwave's empty, yet somehow looking softer, face.

"Yeah? What is it?" He asks between snickers, and the CON just points at the computer on one corner of the room.

There's a program running, some kind of video-call, and the message flickering on it informs them that someone's waiting on the other end of the line for an answer.

After a blink, he sits up sharply, eyes wide, before looking at the white-haired creature, who nods and makes a vague shooing motion.

Not answering to Ironhide or Epps' questions, he stands up and goes to the waiting computer almost in a trance.

He lets himself fall on the chair and takes a couple of deep breaths before accepting the call.

Sarah's worried face immediately brightens and Lennox feels a weight he hadn't know was there get off his chest.

"Oh, Will." His wife sobs, her watery smile quickly covered by a hand as the other cradles Annabelle against her chest.

Before he can answer, someone calls him at his back.

After a quick look over his shoulder, Optimus approaches, keeping out of view from the screen.

"I apologize for the intrusion." He sees Sarah frown fearfully from the corner of his eye as he makes to stand, but a raised hand stops him. "This is not a matter to worry about, do not despair. Since we have to await the decision of the President and your unit is to stay here, we have negotiated with the Secretary of Defense to find suitable arrangements for those in the base." Which meant the Cybertronian, the humans from Hoover Dam and the bare minimum of the base's own personnel. "We would like to invite your wife and daughter to join you here for the next days. They would be escorted here from members of the military, and, whatever your Government's decision is in the matter at hand, all of you will be allowed to go back to your lives once it is announced." Stunned, Will looks at his wife, who is as wide-eyed as him, indicating she has heard everything. "If we were to receive a positive answer now, they would be here by nightfall." The Autobot continues, and the ranger's breathing hitches at the words, for it would mean less than three hours.

Sarah lets out an overwhelmed sob before smiling and nodding, and the Captain doesn't even have to look back at the Cybertronian to know the order has already been given.

"They will be there in thirty minutes to pick them up."

And even as the call is cut, the last image one of his wife almost overwhelmed with joy, Will feels himself as if soaring.

The first thing he does when he gets back to the group, now conversing more calmly about topics that don't make them look sick, is embrace Soundwave as tightly as he can, eliciting a squeak from the CON and mouths opened so wide that a whole aircraft carrier could have gone inside.

Oh, yes. The future is starting to look up.

* * *

**AN: **Alright... Now, _this_ was supposed to be the last chapter. Read: _WAS_.

Somehow, an Epilogue made its way in... and the rabid plot bunny-like thing that spawned _this_ came along with it.

So, now I have an Epilogue that wants to be a Chapter and a story that keeps unfolding. Dangerously.

The current trouble I'm finding myself in now is what to do with the rest of the story. Because it refuses to just stay down.

Options are: A) Post the Epilogue-Chapter and keep publishing like always. B) Post the Epilogue as an Epilogue and post the rest on a separate fanfic.

Whether I end up choosing one or the other depends on how the rest of the story gets itself written. Because right now, it looks to me like it will be a series of drabbles/scenes/short stories until the next major plot (or the next thickening of the plot, because, even if it is in drabbles/short-kind-of-independent chapters, it will keep unravelling).

One possible idea is to post the Epilogue, post a next fanfic where the in-between main-plot scenes/stories will be posted, and get the next main event on yet another fic. Another is to keep posting on this, with the 'interludes' either on their own or a couple on each chapter, depending on size, and marked as thus.

Final decision is mine (actually not, because the rabid plot bunny-thing _always_ has the last word) but I will appreciate suggestions, ideas, criticism, etc.

Be aware, next chapter/epilogue won't be posted until I know how I will continue this, so it may take a bit... (Not a threat/begging for reviews/whatever, just a fair warning. The rest still has to be written, after all).


	10. Of the Midday Dawn

They asked for either an uninhabited island or a military base. They have both.

Diego Garcia is an island in the British Indian Ocean Territory, the largest, in fact. It has a newly built military base the purpose of which has been modified to be the Cybertronian's Headquarters slash living area, and that was the reason the island became uninhabited in the first place.

Soundwave may know—cross that, Soundwave _knows_, plain and simple, what its purpose was supposed to be, but he hasn't asked. Either it wasn't important—or less important than the bunch of deadly sentient weapons now in the Government's hands—or is something better left in the dark.

Whatever the reason, what matters is that they are here, that the place is theirs, and that they like it.

Ravage's racing all across the beach in panther form with Scorponok diving through the sand while screeching happily is a pretty obvious indication.

As is Laserbeak's excited bouncing in place as he chirps at some of the other CONs, only becoming more hyperactive when Blackout nods.

Ratchet's dark frown, though, doesn't look happy, but since it seems to be directed at the youngster now clicking at Soundwave, it doesn't look like the base's about to get bad criticism from him.

Megatron and Optimus are inside, with Jazz and Starscream, taking what seems like the ninth tour of the facilities, but then, it is to be expected.

Ironhide, Barricade, Bonecrusher and Brawl are, seemingly, baiting the twins, judging by the kid-like beings' increasing annoyance and higher pitched sounds, but they aren't speaking anything understandable to humans, so there's no way to tell.

And Bumblebee…

"—_and I can't believe I'm leaving. Oh, I don't kno-kno-know what I'm gonna do._"

Sam's heart clenches as he stops next to the teenager-like creature sitting on the sand, looking sadder than he should as he watches the two other youngsters race past them.

"Hey, why the moping?" He asks almost nonchalantly as he plops down at his side, but the BOT doesn't look at him.

"_Tell me how to get back to, back to summer paradise with you._" The human frowns a bit as the song keeps going, not really understanding.

Due to the island's placement, it _is_ like a summer paradise. So why would the Cybertronian use the expression to talk about someplace else?

A quick look from bright blue irises, and a small sad smile appears on the blond's face.

"_I like the way you're not afraid._" Blue eyes turn away, to the sand black fingers are scrapping almost too softly to displace the grains. "_They don't know a friend like you._"

When it slams, it's almost painfully.

"We can still be friends!" He shouts, and he has the feeling there are glowing eyes on him despite Bumblebee not looking at him, but he doesn't turn away from the Cybertronian. "I would really like being your friend, and it isn't like you can't come visit. Isn't it?" His heart clenches painfully, because he's on the island, along the rest of the humans that got tangled in this plus his parents, for reasons unknown to him, so he's not sure if there will be a second chance to come.

But the Autobots, and the Decepticons too, are free now, aren't they?

"_If only I could fly, I'd bid this place goodbye to come and be with you._"

Which isn't the answer he wants to think it is. He really, _really_, doesn't want to think that he won't see the guy he thinks could be a good friend ever again.

Words fail him, though, and Bumblebee stays silent, both of them staring down at the sand under them.

"Hey, Sammy, Bee!" They look up in unison, startled, to where Barricade is waving at them to approach, almost all Cybertronian, including the now human-looking Ravage and Scorponok, crowding behind him. "Get off the airstrip!"

Before the teenager can process the words, he feels himself be tugged to his feet and almost dragged to the amused creatures, squawking indignantly in the process.

"Guess you're as excited for the air show as we are, huh?" Captain Lennox—Will, he wants to be called Will, because he's not on duty, he's on family vacation—laughs when they get to their side, cradling his daughter in his arms while his wife stands at his side, a lot more at ease around the Cybertronian than when she was introduced to them.

A quick look around reveals that everybody, with the exception of the two leaders, Secretary Keller and the First Lieutenants, are there, looking more or less excited.

"Air show?" He repeats, and his mother is suddenly there with Mikaela, his father not too far behind, as they watch Laserbeak run to where he was sitting moments before.

"Some of us can fly." Scorponok answers, bouncing a bit on place as the red-armored youngster jumps and transforms midair with a flash, flapping metallic wings and soaring up into the blue sky with as much ease as a flesh bird, long tail and neck moving to aid in his turns.

He gives the dark-skinned and dark-haired boy a quick glance, seeing excitement in his four completely red eyes, the extra two lower than the main ones, before turning his attention to the curiously elegant metallic being flying over them.

"I can see that." He answers softly, feeling as awed as the first time by the ease with which such a big and _metallic_ creature flies.

"Not just Laserbeak." A deeper voice answers with a chuckle, and he frowns in confusion as Blackout steps forward.

"No way…" Epps whispers, loud enough to be heard, and getting a bark of laughter from the CON.

"How did you think I got to Qatar? On a plane? _Swimming_?" The smile he throws over his shoulder is too wide, but, before he gets an answer, he starts to run.

His body vanishes under the light enveloping him, and, when he jumps, something on his back _fans open_.

It takes a moment of watching the tall creature hovering over the beach a bit wobbly for Sam to recognize the spinning things on his back.

"A helicopter _rotor_?" He squeaks, looking at the two stunned rangers.

"So that _really_ serves to fly? It isn't just for cutting things down?" The Captain asks Soundwave, who simply nods without looking away from where a now more confident Blackout is flying alongside Laserbeak over the stretch of beach.

"Alright, who is next?" Glen asks excitedly, looking at the rest of Cybertronian assembled and, to their utter surprise, all glowing eyes fall on—

"Soundwave?" Mikaela whispers, almost disbelieving, but the CON doesn't move more than to look at a frowning Ratchet.

"He can fly?" Maggie asks softly, looking at the twins now by her side, who move a bit nervously at the sudden attention.

"He c-c-c-can." Frenzy whispers, looking up at the woman before turning his attention away.

"But QM-MED n-n-n-not let him." Rumble adds, hunching a bit into himself as the medic gives him a brief glare.

"Of course I won't. He hasn't recovered enough for his body to stand the kind of strain flying will put it under."

"He hovers." The glare Ratchet directs at Brawl is enough to make the large creature hide behind Bonecrusher, who takes a step back at having that kind of attention directed at him.

"Flying, hovering, whatever. Not. Ready."

"It'll be good for them." Ironhide pipes in, completely unaffected by the glowing blue eyes suddenly on him. "And you are here to monitor them. Just call them off when you think it's enough."

"Them?" Epps—Bobby, he wants to be called Bobby, Sam remembers suddenly, maybe because of the almost sheepish look as he butts into the conversation—repeats, and it seems like all other humans have realized that small detail too, now that it has been called to attention.

Both CONs and BOTs stay silent for a moment, just looking at them—and then they start bickering again. But in _Cybertronian_.

"Oh, come _on_. That's not fair." Sam grumbles under his breath, and Bumblebee pats his shoulder with a small amused smile. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up."

"Who authorized an aerial deployment without my permission?"

Everybody falls silent, unable to do anything but look wide-eyed at Megatron as the imposing CON approaches with a dark frown, Optimus at his right with Jazz at his, and Starscream to his left.

"Nobody. We were told the sky was cleared, and they decided to try it." Bonecrusher answers nonchalantly, something that earns him a lot of open mouths and disbelieveing stares.

But then, the Decepticon leader smiles with a kind of glee usually seen on children inside candy shops, and, before they know it, he has rushed past them with a flash of light and—

He's on the air, airborne, _flying_.

The awkward plates screwed on the front of his lower legs are gone, revealing something that looks a lot like the wheel-like things on some of the others, three per leg, on the inside, whirling madly while jets of flames come out of his feet.

He moves a bit awkwardly on place, arms outstretched as if keeping his balance, before a confident grin appears on his face as he turns to look at them, more at ease.

"Are you two coming or what?" Sam jerks with surprise at his call, and quickly looks to Ratchet when he realizes he's talking about Soundwave and whoever the other is.

The medic lets out an exasperated sigh before shaking his head with a small smile.

"But you're landing the instant I call you down."

Soundwave is but a white blur as he races away, jumping to the air with a flash of light.

His body is a bunch of dark blue cabling covered by silvery-white plates and, like Starscream back at Hoover Dam, Sam knows there are parts missing.

Unlike then, though, he can't really make a note of them, because he is hovering on the air in a visually soothing kind of way, a bit like a hummingbird dancing in front of a flower.

And because the large _things_ in his arms and back have his whole attention.

Growing from the elbows are a couple of pincers-like structures he doesn't really know if they are one piece or many, framing the whole lower arm and letting out short bursts of red-white flame from ports he can't see over all their length, stabilizing him, while two bigger but similar structures grow from his lower back, fanning a bit open like some kind of coat tails, silver white this time and also letting out short bursts of fire.

All in all, Soundwave looks like he's frozen mid-jump, arms spread to the sides for balance and one leg half-flexed, as he—_hovers_ in place, with those minutely small bursts from time to time to help him move or stay on place.

"He has no propulsion?"

"He has an anti-gravity system. Those short flares are stabilizers." Starscream answers Will's stunned question calmly, none of them looking away from where the four CONs have started a kind of aerial dance, each with their own 'flying style'. "Think of it like a satellite."

And he can see it, mind flashing back to all those videos from news or movies, how the machines simply float around and use minimal energy to change the direction or when the gravity of Earth pulls them too close.

"That's so cool…" He whispers, hearing Glen say the same almost in unison, but he can't tear his gaze away from where Megatron is flailing like someone who had just put on ice skates for the first time, the soft breeze destabilizing him easily, while Blackout and Laserbeak race around and Soundwave just… floats close to his leader.

"Aren't you going to join them?"

It isn't so much the words as the soft, worried tone that takes Sam's attention away.

Ratchet is looking at the Decepticon First Lieutenant searchingly, as is every other Cybertronian, but the sandy creature just stands there with his arms crossed tightly against his chest and without looking away from his flying companions.

"I'm not sure I'll be able to stop if I take off." He answers weakly, his voice conveying all the vulnerability he's feeling despite his face staying emotionless. "I'm not sure I'll be able to keep myself in line."

"He flies too?" He asks Bumblebee softly, who gives him a _Duh_ look.

"He's the _Air Force Commander_. Of course he does." Barricade answers softly, not looking away from the other CON. "And he's the best at it."

Ratchet looks away with a conflicted look before steeling himself and clicking something, not looking away from where he's observing the simple aerial acrobatics of the airborne Decepticons.

There's silence for some seconds when he finishes, but then Starscream straightens and lets his arms fall to his sides.

The sandy creature whistles something back before calmly walking away, and Sam can feel the excitement and expectation of the rest of Cybertronian with them when clothing changes into armor with a flash of light, cabling exposed and pieces still missing.

But, he is not running.

By now, all those on the air have already noticed and are chirping excitedly, but the First Lieutenant doesn't change his calm pace.

"He's not running." Bobby comments simply, and the twins are almost vibrating as they start chirping softly.

"The others needed a running start to take off. Starscream doesn't." Brawl answers simply, a big smirk in his voice, but Sam doesn't look away.

The turbine-like structures on his back start glowing, and the next step the Air Force Commander takes is on empty air, a constant stream of blue-white fire rushing from the structures on his back as he, to their utter disbelief, starts climbing up as one would a staircase, and with the same security, the same firmness, as if he had solid ground under his taloned feet.

And then, with a sound like a shot, Starscream vanishes.

He has to turn to the rangers to realize he needs to look up, but even then, it takes him some effort to follow the sandy blur rushing on the blue of the sky.

"Well, I'll be damned. He's _fast_."

"And agile." Will adds to Ironhide's comment when they see the spot that is the Decepticon change direction in a perfect ninety degrees angle.

"That's not fast. Nor agile." Bonecrusher snorts, pride and awe coating his words. "That's just a warm up. You should really see him when he's up to spec."

Someone whistles at that, but Sam can't take his gaze away long enough to identify them.

And then, Ratchet screeches something, and Blackout bursts upwards faster than any copter has a right to be, but still slow enough in comparison to the one he's flying towards.

There's a soft thud, and he turns a bit to see Soundwave landing gracefully next to Megatron, both going back to their armor-less states with a flash of light, while Laserbeak flashes back to his human-like form in midair, touching the ground almost at a run as he rushes to the group.

"That was _awesome_!" He shouts, bouncing in place as he watches the two still airborne CONs descending slowly, seemingly conversing but too far away to make out words or sounds. "And we can do this all the time now? Really?"

"Really." The Decepticon leader answers, patting the youngster's head and wearing a smile that makes him seem years younger despite the sharp teeth. "And I really hope so, I still need a lot more practice."

"I'd say, High Protector! That looked like a human trying to walk on water!" They all look up at Starscream's jab, his hair tousled and his face a bit pale, but with a smile so bright it's almost blinding.

Blackout snorts, the rotors at his back clicking shut like a cape and dropping him the last feet to the ground.

"Not everybody can be like you, AF-CMD." He answers with a laugh as Megatron rolls his eyes fondly, and the sandy being chuckles as he steps back on the beach barely without disturbing the sand.

"_Nobody_ can be like me, my dear AF-OFC-RS. That would be a crime."

They all laugh at that, even Ratchet, busy as he is looking Soundwave over with white-framed blue pupils and shiny glasses.

"A crime against the rest of us, I'm sure. One of you is enough of a handful." The medic answers dryly, nodding to the white-haired being before turning to the now armor-less sandy one.

"Such small minds, unable to appreciate the greatness that is—Ouch!" There's some more laughter when the oh-so-powerful Decepticon gets punched on the arm by the measly Autobot with a soft clanging sound, but not even the offended party seems annoyed by the interruption, just shaking his head with a tiny smile trying to grow larger on his face as the other scans him by sight alone.

Or what seems just sight. Glowing eyes mean something is going on, after all.

"Hey, Optimus." The Autobot leader looks back at him, stopping instead of following the rest inside as they go get something to eat and drink.

"Yes, Sam?"

"Are you… Are you going to stay here? All of you? … Forever?" His voice grows weaker as he speaks, never looking up from the sand under his feet, but the silence is enough to tell him he's been heard.

"We are going to stay here. But we hope it will not be 'forever'." He lets out a defeated sigh at that, because if they're depending on whether or not people will accept them… "Although, Secretary Keller has asked for one of us to go back with him for the sake of bettering their knowledge and help find the missing information from Sector Seven, since they wiped most of their databases prior to our intervention." He looks up at that, a sliver of hope growing on his chest. "I had though Ironhide or Jazz would be likely candidates for the job… but perhaps I have not taken everything into account. For humans need to learn about us, but we need to learn about humans. And the only one of us Autobots suited for such a task would be Bumblebee."

"I was going to send Barricade." Sam jumps with a squeak at the unexpected voice, quickly turning to see said CON looking sullen next to Megatron, along a happy Bumblebee, all of them with plastic glasses full of water. "They would make a fine team."

"Just when I thought I got rid of the humans…" The not-cop grumbles, glaring into his glass, as the blond gives the teenager his own and Optimus takes his from his brother with a grateful nod.

"They _would_ make a fine team. And Barricade is already acquainted with humans, as is Bumblebee. That would definitely make things easier." The BOT answers with a knowing smile that borders on becoming a smirk, taking a sip.

Sam looks at his new-found friend, and, even if such a thing was possible, no words are exchanged.

None are needed, after all.

* * *

**AN:** Decided to keep writing here, so here is the Epilogue-turned-Chapter. Short, I know, but there was nothing else that could be added to it.

Next chapters will be slow coming, since they are not written. Which, on the other hand, allows for suggestions. If there's something you'll like to see, from flashbacks to present situations, or simply have a question regarding plot/world-developement, go ahead and ask, and I'll try to use the Interlude-Chapters until the next plot thickening to introduce them.

Grab on tight and don't take off your seatbelts, the ride might slow down, but it's far from over...


End file.
